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L  I  B  R.AFLY 

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P82W 

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THE 


KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN, 

By  Miss  ANNA  MARIA  PORTER, 

AUTHOR  OF  *'  THE  RECLUSE  OF  NORWAY,"   ^C,  ^C.      •. 


"  Let  its  pure  flame 


**  From  Virtue  flow,  and  love  can  never  fiil 
**  To  warm  another's  bosom,  so  the  light 
"  Shine  manifestly  forth." 

Carey's  Dante. 


IN    THREE    VOLUMES. 

VOL.  I. 


LOKBOK: 

PRINTED  FOR  LONGMAN,  HURST,  REES,  ORME,  AND  BROWN, 

FAT£RNOST£B.-jaOW. 

1817. 


Printed  byA.Strahan, 
Printers-Street,   London. 


i<-: 


9X3 


TO 

THOSE  DEAR  FRIENDS, 

IN   WHOSE    DOMESTIC   SOCIETY 

THE    PRINCIPAL    PART    OF    THIS    WOUK 

WAS    COMPOSED, 

TffE  FOLLOWING  PAGES 

ARE    INSCRIBED, 
BY   THEIR    VERY    GRATEFUL 

AND    AFFECTIONATE 

ANNA  MARIA. 


THE 


KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN 


CHAPTER  I. 


Favourably  blew  the  vernal  breezes,  as 
a' weather-beaten  vessel  steered  for  the 
port  of  Genoa,  late  one  evening,  in 
the  year  1563.  Her  crew  were  nil  on 
the  deck,  welcoming,  after  an  absence 
of  four  years  among  distant  seas,  the 
sight  of  their  blue  gulf,  and  their  na- 
tive city. 

That  majestic  city  was  now  only  dimly 
seen,  reflected  from  the  crystal  mirror 
below;  for  the  sun  had  been  long  set, 
and  but  the  faintest  purple  remained  in 

VOL.  I.  B 


^  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

the  western  sky.  Yet  that  reflected  ob- 
ject, undulating  with  the  waves,  still 
possessed  charms  for  those  in  whose  me- 
mories it  was  associated  with  ideas  of 
home  and  domestic  joy.  Now  broken 
by  a  crossing  sail  or  a  dashing  oar ;  now 
uniting  and  forming  again  into  the  same 
shapes  of  shadowy  beauty ;  now  gra- 
dually assuming  darker  and  less  distinct 
outlines,  the  visionary  picture  at  last 
melted  into  one  with  the  gray  and  uni- 
form water. 

But  the  moon  rises ;  and  as  the  shout- 
ing mariners  approach  the  pharos,  the 
proud  city  is  again  seen  in  all  her  glory, 
encircling  the  bay  as  with  a  diadem. 

There  stretches  her  magnificent  amphi- 
theatre of  towers,  and  spires,  and  domes  ; 
of  churches,  and  convents,  and  palaces ! 
There  rise  her  lofty  cypress  groves ! 
There  hang  her  aerial  gardens  !  There 
spread  her  gilded  trellises  blushing  witli 
flowers  and  fruits;  her  sparkling  foun- 
tains, her  marble  terraces  descending  to 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  .J 

the  sea,  her  harbours  crowded  with  gal- 
lant vessels,  and  faer  protecting  hills  glit- 
tering with  villas  and  with  vineyards ! 

The  broad  moonHght  now  covers  sea 
and  shore  with  a  flood  of  molten  silver ; 
the  white-winged  vessel  gleams  like  a 
meteor  as  she  glides  swiftly  onwards ; 
she  approaches  the  moles  and  the  cita- 
del— she  passes  them:  now  they  recede 
from  her  forward  course,  —  she  reaches 
the  port,  —  she  casts  anchor,  and  the 
next  moment  all  her  crew  are  on  land. 

One  young  man,  exchanging  hasty 
adieus  with  his  companions,  broke  from 
the  party,  and  hastened  forwards  with 
the  eager  step  of  joy.  His  progress  was 
stopped  in  the  Strada  Balbi,  by  a  crowd 
assembled  before  the  gates  of  the  seig- 
niory. Having  in  vain  urged  his  way 
by  vehement  actions  and  exclamations, 
he  found  the  throng  too  solid  to  pene- 
trate ;  and,  forced  to  submit,  turned  to- 
wards a  person  next  him,  enquiring,  in 
no  patient  tone,  what  all  this  meant. 


4  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

**  It  is  the  last  day  of  the  Adimaii 
and  Cigahi  trial,"  replied  the  gentleman 
he  questioned. 

*'  The  Adimari  and  Cigala  trial  1"  re- 
peatedi  his  questioner  with  a  look  of 
astonishment:  "  Have  the  goodness, 
signor,  to  tell  m^  the  particulars  ?" 

Without  remarking  the  very  remark- 
able expression  which  suddenly  changed 
the  animated  countenance  of  the  stranger, 
the  Genoese  proceeded  to  satisfy  his  cu- 
riosity. 

"  The  present  dispute  is  about  an 
estate  at  Nervi,  which  was  sold,  some 
two  hundred  years  ago,  by  one  of  the 
Cigali  to  one  of  the  Adimari.  It  re- 
mained in  the  hands  of  the  Adimari 
from  that  day  till  about  two  years  ago, 
when  Signor  Cigala  laid  claim  to  it  in 
right  of  descent  from  the  original  pos- 
sessors: offering  to  show  proof,  that  it 
was  so  secured  to  the  next  of  kin  at  the 
time  in  which  his  ancestor  sold  it,  as  to 
be  incapable  of  alienation  while  any  of 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  O 

the  direct  line  remained.  Adimari  sup- 
ported his  right  to  a  property  which  his 
family  had  fairly  bought,  and  kept  quiet 
possession  of  for  two  centuries.  The  suit 
was  drawn  out  to  great  length,  from  the 
novelty  of  the  case,  the  display  of  proofs 
and  papers,  the  various  altercations  of 
the  lawyers,  &c. ;  —  but  to-day  was  an- 
nounced for  the  termination  ;  and,  though 
the  sitting  is  protracted  to  a  most  unsea- 
sonable hour,  we  are  all  still  waiting,  im- 
patient to  know  the  decision  of  the 
judges." 

**  They  cannot  give  it  in  Cigala's  fa- 
vour !"  exclaimed  the  young  man,  with 
some  degree  of  indignant  warmth. 

"  Very  few  wish  they  should,"  rejoined 
his  companion  ;  "  for  it  is  shrewdly  sus- 
pected, that  these  vexatious  family-re- 
gisters have  been  dragged  forth  by  Cigala 
to  satisfy  an  old  grudge  he  bore  to  Adi- 
mari when  a  youth.  He  might  have 
been  contented  with  the  triumph  hie 
gainf^d  over  him,  some  fifteen  year<?  ago, 
B  3 


f)  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

uhen  lie  ^got  tlie  Podestar  of  Corsica 
from  him  by  cabal  and  influence.  That 
Injury  galled  poor  Adimari  sorely ;  but 
lie  was  a  mild  man,  who  never  showed 
resentment,  though  he  felt  injury.  —  If 
this  suit  end  as  I  hope  it  may,  it  will  be 
a  pity  that  the  worthy  signor  has  not 
lived  to  see  it.'' 

**  What  said  you?  —  not  lived!"  ex- 
claimed the  young  stranger  in  a  piercing 
cry  of  demand. 

.**  He  died  three  months  ago,  broken 
by  care  and  grief.*'  —  The  last  words 
were  unheard  by  him  to  whom  they  were 
addressed ;  his  head  had  sunk  back  on 
the  shoulder  of  a  by-stander  ;  and  he 
must  have  fallen  to  the  ground,  but  for 
the  closeness  of  the  press. 

From  the  ghastly  fixture  of  his  fea- 
tures, the  people  around  pronounced  him 
dead  j  and  humanity  soon  effected,  what 
nothing  else  could  have  done :  the  sym- 
pathising crowd  broke  asunder,  pressed 
on  each  other,  opened  a  passage  for  the 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  7 

persons  who  were  endeavouring  to  bear 
him  forward  to  the  portico  of  the  Pa- 
lazzo ;  and  some  one  recognising  his 
lineaments,  or  fancying  a  resemblance, 
as  he  was  borne  by,  whispered  his  name. 

**  It  is  Adimari's  son !"  repeated  one 
to  another;  and  as  they  followed  him 
with  their  eyes,  low  murmurs  of  pity 
succeeded  to  the  clamour  of  curiosity 
and  impatience. 

The  doors,  .that  had  so  long  been 
watched,  now  flew  open,  and  a  mixed 
multitude  poured  forth  ;  all  wearing  the 
emblem  of  the  Cigali  triumphantly  in 
their  caps. 

The  shouts  of  the  one  party,  and  the 
execrations  of  the  other,  were  unnoticed, 
and  scarcely  heard  by  the  outer  crowd : 
their  attention  had  fastened  upon  another 
object ;  and  they  now  trampled  down 
each  other,  anxious  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  sufferer,  and  to  ascertain  whether 
he  were  indeed  their  fellow-citizen. 

When  this  unfortunate  son  (for  it  was 
B  4 


8  THE  KNIGHT  OT  ST.  JOHN. 

Cesario  Adimari)  opened  his  eyes,  he 
found  himself  principally  supported  by  a 
young  man,  whose  prepossessing  coun- 
tenance was  expressive  of  deep  interest. 
H^  felt  this  person's  hand  tremble  in 
assisting  him  to  rise  j  and  he  observed 
that  his  garments  were  sprinkled  with 
blood.  This  person  tlien  had  held  him, 
while  the  vein  had  been  opened  which 
Cesario  now  felt  stiffening  in  his  arm. 

*<  I  thank  you,  signor  t'*  he  said  in  an 
agitated  voice.  "  I  thank  you  ail,  my 
countrymen  I  —  I  will  go  home  now  — 
Home!  where  my  father  is  not!  —  O 
God !" 

Gushing  into  tears  as  he  spoke,  and 
unable  to  resist  their  salutary  violence, 
he  leaned  his  face  against  one  of  the 
gates;  again  he  felt  the  cold  agitated 
touch  of  the  hand  which  had  so  recently 
pressed  his  :  it  was  colder  and  more  tre- 
mulous than  at  first. 

Roused  by  such  extraordinary  sym- 
pathy at  once  into  shame  at  thus  pub- 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  9 

licly  displaying  his  feelings,  and  into 
livelier  gratitude  for  the  compassion  be- 
stowed on  him,  Cesario  was  pulling  his 
cloke  round  him  to  depart,  when,  in  di- 
recting his  eye  towards  the  benevolent 
stranger,  ^^th  a  look  that  still  asked  his 
sympathy,  he  saw  in  his  cap  the  hated 
myrtle-branch  of  the  Cigali. 

His  eye  changed.     "  You  are  a  Cigala, 
then !" 

"  I  am." 

Some  of  the  crowd  murmured,  in  un- 
der voices,  **  Giovanni  Cigala." 

Cesario  started  at  the  sound ;  the 
scathing  of  a  glance  keener  than  any  curse 
ever  uttered  by  hatred,  was  all  the  an- 
swer he  vouchsafed  to  the  son  of  the  man 
who  had  stripped  his  father  of  compe- 
tence and  life.  He  shook  off  the  gra^ 
that  would  have  detained  him ,  and, 
springing  down  the  steps  of  the  portico 
with  sudden  strength,  was  out  of  sight, 
and  beneath  friendly  shelter,  ere  nature 
again  gave  way  under  the  shock  of  fuller 
B  5 


10  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

information,  and  the  certainty  of  utter 
ruin. 

Many  days  elapsed,-— days  of  alternate 
grief  and  indignation:  for  Cesario 
raourned  the  loss  of  a  parent  dearer 
than  his  life's  blood  ;  and  saw  himself 
reduced  to  beggary  and  dependence. 

The  bulk  of  his  expected  inheritance 
had  consisted  of  the  estate  just  wrested 
from  him.  His  father  was  a  man  of 
nobler  pursuits  than  fortune  :  in  his  early 
youth  he  had  served  in  the  fleet  of  the 
Republic,  but  with  more  honour  than 
profit  J  and  in  later  life  he  entered  into 
commercial  speculations. 

In  Genoa,  the  gentry,  and  second  class 
of  nobility,  are  permitted  to  unite  mer- 
cantile concerns  with  their  boast  of  pa- 
trician quality  J  and  Adimari,  having  em- 
barked in  them,  had  ventured  rather  too 
far  in  the  hope  of  increasing  the  fortune 
of  this  darling  sop. 

In  consequence  of  the  unjust  detention 
of  one  of  his  richest  vessels,  in  a  Portu- 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  1 1 

guese  Indian  settlement,  Adimari  had 
been  induced  to  send  his  son  thither, 
charged  with  documents  necessary  for 
the  release  of  the  ship.  A  voyage  to  the 
East  was,  in  those  days,  long  and  dan- 
gerous :  Cesario  encountered  the  perils 
and  pains  of  its  difficult  navigation ;  and 
endured,  afterwards,  the  vexation  of 
combating  for  his  rights  with  an  arbi- 
trary governor,  determined  to  keep  the 
prize  he  detained  under  imaginary  pre- 
tences. 

.  An  act  of  self-defence,  made  by  some 
of  the  crew  during  a  visit  on  shore,  was 
construed  into  a  piratical  attack:  and 
the  ship  and  cargo  being  formally  con- 
demned as  forfeited  to  the  government 
of  Goa,  Cesario  returned  to  Europe, 
comforting  himself  under  this  disappoint- 
ment by  the  certainty  of  finding  affluence 
and  peace  at  home. 

But  during  four  years,  his  father  had 
suffered   many   other    losses ;    and,    the 
Nervi  estate  gone,  nothing  remained  to 
B  6 


12  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

Cesario,  excepting  a  few  olive  and  mul- 
berry grounds  at  Polchiverra ;  the  annual 
products  of  which  would  fall  far  short  of 
the  sums  demanded  to  defray  the  debts 
contracted  during  his  absence  in  this 
disastrous  law-suit.  He  was  resolved, 
however,  to  pay  them  ;  and  he  instantly 
made  himself  answerable  to  all  the  cre- 
ditors. 

"  What  madness  f*'  said  one  of  his 
kinsmen  to  him  :  "  you  are  destroying 
yourself,  —  that  wretched  remnant  of 
property,  comes  to  you  in  right  of  your 
mother's  settlement ;  it  cannot  be  touch- 
ed by  your  father's  creditors  :  why  con- 
tract this  needless  engagement  ?" 

"  Needless,  do  you  call  it  ?"  inter- 
rupted Cesario ;  **  needless  !  to  preserve 
my  father's  name  without  reproach  !  no  l 
that  unspotted  name  is  all  he  had  left 
to  bequeath  me  ;  and  I  will  preserve  the 
precious  legacy  with  my  life." 

"  But  how  are  you  to  discharge  the 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  13 

claims  which  are  still  against  him  ;  a  thou- 
sand ducats  at  least " 

**  Are  much  for  a  man  who  has  not 
quite  the  sixth  part  of  that  sum  to  live 
on  ;  however,  with  Heaven's  assistance, 
I  will  do  it,  or  perish  in  prison  ;  and  so 
add  another  damning  sin  to  the  cata- 
logue of  the  Cigali.  I  shall  pledge  that 
estate  to  the  Jews  ;  they  will  give  me 
the  money,  perhaps,  for  ten  or  twenty 
years  possession  —  meanwhile  I  must  find 
bread  with  my  sword.*' 

His  kinsman  shook  his  head,  and  with- 
drew. Cesario  threw  himself  on  a  seat, 
and  sunk  into  deep  thought  j  for  a  while 
his  reflections  were  full  of  anxiety,  and 
the  dismal  future  ;  but  they  soon  chang- 
ed, leading  him  back  to  the  days  of  his 
childhood  and  his  youth,  to  the  che* 
rished  images  of  his  father  and  his  home ; 
that  home  which  was  now  the  property 
of  another  1 

Flattering  fancy  g6ntly  deluded  him 
with  a  succession  of  beloved  recollec- 


14  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

tions  ;  which,  as  they  continued  to  arise, 
arose  in  forms  of  startling  reality,  and 
made  him  live  the  past  again. 

In  imagination  he  walked  beneath  the 
lofty  plane-trees  that  shaded  the  terrace 
at  Nervi,  conversing  with  his  father ; 
now  and  then  stopping  to  list  the  soft 
laving  of  the  tide  against  the  steps  which 
led  into  the  sea;  or  leaning  over  the 
balustrade,  to  watch  the  progress  of  a 
skiff,  or  the  flight  of  a  bird :  the  gracious 
voice  he  was  never  again  to  hear  on 
earth,  fell  on  his  ear  in  accents  of  tender- 
ness and  instruction ;  they  talked  of  Ce- 
sario*s  meditated  voyage,  they  anticipated 
a  joyful  meeting  after  two  years  of  sepa- 
ration. Cesario's  lips  were  just  sealed 
on  his  father's  hand  with  filial  fondness, 
when  the  door  of  the  apartment  he 
really  sat  in,  opened  hastily,  and  the 
vision  vanished. 

Rising  in  disorder,  he  looked  with  in- 
dignant amazement  upon  the  person  that 
entered  :  it  was  Giovanni  Cigala. 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  15 

"  What  means  this  intrusion,  sir  ?** 
demanded  Cesario. 

**  It  means  any  thing  but  offence," 
replied  the  fonner,  gently,  but  steadily 
advancing. 

"  You  come  for  my  thanks,  perhaps," 
said  the  other  abruptly,  **  for  services 
rendered  me  in  the  portico  of  the  seig- 
niory ?  You  have  them,  signor.  I  thank 
you. — I  thank  you !  There  !  do  not  urge 
me  further." 

He  turned  away  as  he  concluded,  and 
leaned  against  a  window  frame;  evidently 
desirous  of  thus  terminating  the  inter- 
view. 

Giovanni  still  advanced,  though  with 
an  air  of  respect  and  dignity.  **  I  should 
not  have  intruded  on  you,  signor,  with 
any  selfish  errand,  earnestly  as  I  desire 
to  cultivate  mutual  good-will ;"  (Cesario 
cast  on  him  a  glance  of  disdain  ;  Gio- 
vanni proceeded;)  **  but  I  come  to  do 
you   an   act   of  justice  ;  to  make  some 


16  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

compensation   if  possible,  for  what  the 
law  has  awarded  to  my  father." 

"  Your  father !  —  name  him  not,  if 
you  would  have  me  endure  your  sight 
a  single  moment.  My  father !  where  is 
he  ?  —  in  his  grave  !  and  who  rifled  him 
of  life  ?  —  who  tore  his  dying  embrace, 
his  last  blessing  from  his  wretched  son  ?" 

The  impassioned  young  man  dashed 
his  forehead  against  his  hand  in  a  phrenzy 
of  recollection,  and  vainly  tried  to  stifle 
a  groan. 

Giovanni  looked  at  him  with  increas- 
ing commiseration  ;  a  feeling  of  another 
sort  reddened  his  cheek,  and  altered  his 
voice  as  he  said,  "  The  cause  of  this  in- 
dignation honours  you  too  much,  signor, 
for  me  to  remind  you  in  strong  terms, 
that  I,  too,  am  a  son ;  but  you  must  allow 
me  to  execute  my  commission  :  —  I  pray 
you  permit  me  1" 

Cesario  did  not  answer  ;  his  generous 
soul  was  moved,  in  spite  of  himself,  by 
the  noble  manner  of  his  imagined  enemy ; 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST,  JOHN,  17 

he  could  not  close  his  sense  against  the 
inexpressible  charm  of  his  voice  ;  but  he 
would  not  trust  himself  to  look  upon 
him,  Giovanni's  was,  indeed,  such  a 
countenance  as  Raphael  might  have 
chosen  for  the  favourite  disciple  of  our 
Lord :  a  serene  breadth  of  forehead, 
with  **  heavenly  hair,"  parting  from  it 
in  ample  waves  ;  large  dove-like  eyes ; 
and  that  fair  composure  of  complexion, 
which  bespeaks  the  calm  of  goodness. 
To  this  countenance  was  joined  a  figure, 
of  which  the  eminent  gracefulness  first 
caught  attention ;  but,  on  second  ob- 
servation, its  large  proportions  denoted 
power,  the  power  of  strength  ;  and  then 
the  gentleness  of  his  countenance  seemed 
but  the  more  gracious. 

As  Cesario  still  kept  silence,  Giovanni 
approached  him ;  and  weighing  every 
word,  ere  it  fell  from  him,  lest  it  should 
wound  the  delicacy,  or  kindle  the  inflam- 
mable passions  of  his  unwilling  hearer, 
he  opened  his  commission. 


18  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

It  was  a  request,  that  Cesario  would 
be  pleased  to  receive  the  value  of  the 
estate  at  Nervi ;  at  the  same  time  assur- 
ing him,  that,  although  the  Cigali  family 
could  not  allow  the  right  of  their  title  to 
be  disputed)  (since  indeed  the  most  satis- 
factory proofs  of  that  right  had  been 
sanctified  by  the  decision  of  incorruptible 
judges,)  they  abhorred  the  idea  of  ravish- 
ing it  from  one  who  had  hitherto  believed 
himself  its  undoubted  heir. — What  they 
were  content  to  receive  at  the  hands  of 
justice,  therefore,  was  only  the  power  of 
restoring  this  estate  to  the  property  from 
which  it  had  been  unlawfully  dismem- 
bered two  centuries  back. 

They  prayed  him  to  consider  them  as 
its  purchasers;  and  having  had  the  estate 
valued,  Giovanni  was  come  to  prbfFer  the 
sum  named.  He  would  have  laid  a  very 
heavy  bag  of  ducats  on  the  table  as  he  con- 
cluded, had  not  Cesario  sprung  forward 
with  the  fierceness  of  a  tyger,  and  pushed 
it  back.     **  Have  your  race  hearts !"  ex> 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  19 

claimed  he  indignantly,  "  that  you  be- 
lieve I  am  sprrowing  over  a  few  bags  of 
dross?  Not  all  the  wealth  of  Peru  can 
be  a  compensation  to  me :  take  back 
your  ducats.  I  would  neither  have  sold 
nor  given  my  birth-place  to  any  man^ 
and  though  the  law  has  basely  awarded 
it  to  you,  I  JTiay  die  a  beggar  and  in 
prison,  but  never  will  I  seal  tlie  triumph 
of  the  Cigali,  by  accepting  gold  from 
them  as  a  boon." 

'*  I  Avould  your  just  grief  were  less  in- 
temperate!" said  Giovanni  patiently  ;**you 
would  then  admit  that  we  have  right  on 
our  side,  though  grievous  has  been  its 
enforcement." 

**  I  care  not  for  right,  I  know  not 
where  it  lies  j  I  seek  not  to  discover !" 
interrupted  Cesario,  bursting  forth  anew  ; 
"  I  am  only  certain  that  I  would  not 
have  acted  thus  by  my  direst  foe  \  there- 
fore I  despise  ye.  I  know  that  this  hate- 
ful contest  ruined  my  father's  affairs,  and 
broke  his  heart,  therefore  I  hate  ye !  Go 


QO  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN% 

then  —  never  let  me  see  you  more,  or  I 
know  not  whither  my  distraction  and 
despair  may  lead  me."  Again  he  struck 
his  clasped  hands  against  his  forehead, 
and  stopped  for  want  of  breath. 

"  I  will  bear  any  thing  from  you,  just 
now/'  said  Giovanni,  speaking  quick 
and  short ;  "  for  I  see  you  are  not  your- 
self. You  cannot  hate  me,  you  cannot 
be  so  unjust,  you  must  see  that  I  am  not 
a  hard  and  merciless  man. 

"  Oh,  you  court  popularity  perhaps  !" 
exclaimed  Cesario,  maddened  by  the  in- 
dulgence he  was  giving  to  his  passions: 
"  'tis  ^t  you  do  j  for  I  can  tell  you,  that 
where  my  father  lies  buried,  there  lies 
all  the  honour  of  your  race." 

••"Popularity !" murmured  Giovanni,  and 
a  tear  glistened  in  his  mildly  reproachful 
eye. 

'Twas  an  injurious  suspicion,  and  Ce- 
sario had  rather  uttered  than  thought  it: 
he  now  stood  gloomily  silent;  ashamed 
of  his  own  intemperance)  yet  jealous  of 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  21 

e\'ery  feeling  which  could  soften  him  in 
favour  of  a  Cigala. 

Could  he  have  known  with  what  cou- 
rageous nobleness  this  insulted  man  had 
braved  the  anger  of  a  worldly-minded 
parent,  while  convincing  him  that  human 
nature  called  aloud  for  a  compensation 
to  Cesario  Adimari  j  could  he  have  known 
that  after  a  long  and  painful  stniggle, 
Giovanni  had  finally  wrested  consent,  by 
solemnly  swearing  to  renounce  the  world, 
unless  this  feeble  consolation  were  afford- 
ed to  his  distressed  spirit  j  could  he  have 
known  this,  even  in  the  heat  and  transport 
of  his  passion,  Cesario  must  have  thrown 
himself  upon  the  breast  of  Cigala,  and 
besought  his  pardon.  As  it  was,  he 
laboured  with  his  contending  emotions 
in  silence. 

"  Then,  I  may  not  hope  to  move  your 
purpose  ?"  asked  Giovanni.  **  You  mo- 
tion me  to  leave  you  :  I  will  do  so.  But 
ere  I  go,  suffer  me  to  entreat  you,  in  the 
name  of  Christian  charity,  not  to  judge 


^^4  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

me  SO  rashly  and  so  hardly.  I  am  a 
Cigala,  it  is  true  —  the  son  of  him  by 
whom  fate  has  dealt  its  severest  blow  to 
you.  I  even  feel  as  if  I  had  been  instru- 
mental in  your  misfortunes,  (yet,  God 
knows,  I  am  not !)  and  I  would  fain  be 
allowed  to  offer  some  atonement,  not  in 
the  shape  of  gold  —  not  in  the  shape  of 
vain  dissipation,  but  in  that  of  devoted 
service.  In  truth,  I  would  rather  win 
your  friendship  than  the  love  of  the  fair- 
est woman  in  Italy." 

He  paused,  somewhat  overcome,  and 
proffered  his  hand.  —  Cesario  turned 
hastily  round,  perusing  him  from  head 
to  foot  with  struggling  feelings  :  but  pride 
and  false  opinion  had  the  mastery  ;  and 
he  5aid,  bitterly,  **  Perhaps  you  come  to 
rhock  me  with  this  amazing  show  of 
goodness  :  —  I'll  not  believe  in  it." 

''  Fancy  om*  situations  changed,"  said 
Giovanni,  earnestly  ;  **  how  would  i/ou, 
then,  have  acted  ?" 

"  I !  —  I  would  have  cast  myself  into 
15 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  "^o 

the  sea  rather  than  abetted  such  robbery 
and  such  murder." 

"  Enquire  of  others ;"  returned  Gio- 
vanni, his  gentleness  something  disturbed 
by  this  fierce  accusation,  and  his  cheek 
losing  its  colour ;  *'  they  will  convince 
you,  that  resumption  of  right  is  not  rob- 
ber}' :  and,  for  the  last  charge,  Heaven 
only  is  answerable. — My  father,  possibly, 
guessed  your  father's  heart  as  ill,  as  you 
do  mine.  Farewell,  signer  !" 
.  His  voice  faltered,  but  his  counte- 
nance had  assumed  an  expression  of 
offended  virtue,  which  approached  to 
awfulness  j  he  staid  not  for  reply :  the 
door  closed  on  him  ;  and  Cesario  was  left 
standing  in  a  painful  confusion  cf  irri- 
tated and  self-accusing  feeling. 


(  ^-^  ) 


CHAPTER  II. 

Giovanni  retraced  his  way  homeward 
with  a  swelling  heart, —  he  thought  over 
the  scene  which  had  just  passed ;  and 
while  he  blamed  the  determined  animo- 
sity  of  Gesario,  he  found  its  excuse  in  an 
ardent  nature,  perhaps  never  restrained, 
and  suddenly  bereft  of  the  sole  object  it 
prized  in  life. 

Giovanni's  temper  and  manner  might 
have  been  supposed  the  results  of  philo- 
sophical principles  j  but  his  heart  had  no 
philosophy  in  it,  if  by  that  term  we 
are  to  understand  the  austere  discipline 
which  extinguishes  the  passions,  and  re- 
fuses even  to  the  affections  all  power  over 

our  peace. 

II 


THE  KNIGHT  Ol-   ST.  JOHN.  S5 

Concealing  under  the  serenity  of  a 
temper  incapable  of  disturbance,  feelings 
peculiarly  sensitive,  and  a  mind  highly 
exalted  by  romantic  and  religious  stu- 
dies, Giovanni  had,  at  a  very  early  age, 
felt  the  full  force  of  the  master-passion. 
He  was  a  younger  son,  with  more  graces 
than  wealth  for  his  portion ;  it  was  his 
destiny  to  love  a  coquet,  by  whom  he 
was  alternately  tortured  and  transported, 
till  she  broke  her  own  spells  by  marrying 
an  old  nobleman,  whose  rank  and  riches 
ensured  her  that  power  and  those  plea- 
sures which  she  rated  far  above  the  en- 
joyments of  the  heart. 

At  the  same  period,  Giovanni  lost  his 
mother.  This  affliction  (for  he  loved  her 
tenderly)  following  so  immediately  upon 
a  first  disappointment,  at  once  divorced 
him  from  the  usual  interests  and  expect- 
ations of  life ;  and,  obeying  a  sudden 
impulse,  he  enrolled  himself  among  the 
Knights  of  vSt.  John. 

The  scattered  remnant  of  that  cele- 

VOL.  I.  c 


^6  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

brated  order,  after  having  for  more  than 
four  centuries  been  the  bulwark  of 
Christendom ;  after  having  shed  their 
noblest  blood  in  all  the  wars  between  the 
infidels  and  the  true  believers;  after 
having  given  dignity  to  chivalry,  by  the 
irreproachable  lives  of  its  knights ;  was 
now  driven  from  Rhodes,  the  ancient 
throne  of  its  glory  ;  despoiled  of  its  con- 
quests by  the  Ottoman  arms,  robbed  of 
its  richest  commanderies  by  the  very 
princes  whom  its  valour  had  supported, 
and  all  its  possessions  shrunk  to  the 
sterile  rock  of  Malta. 

As  the  brothers  of  this  celebrated  order 
preserved  the  fame  of  its  former  glory, 
and  the  chivalric  spirit  by  which  that 
glory  was  acquired,  Giovanni  repaired  to 
their  island,  with  a  soul  burning  to  prove 
itself  worthy  of  their  fellowship. 

When  he  thus  took  upon  him  the  obli- 
gation to  live  a  life  of  celibacy,  and  to 
devote  himself  to  the  interests  of  reli- 
gion, he  had  scarcely  attained  the  age  of 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  OTj 

one-and-twenty.  He  fulfilled  this  obli- 
gation for  five  years  ;  distinguishing  him- 
self in  the  convent  by  obedience  and 
purity  of  conduct,  and  upon  service,  by 
zeal  and  intrepidity. 

Mild  and  unaspiring  in  peace,  in  war 
he  was  inspired  with  a  new  character  j 
for  never  did  Caesar's  ambition  prompt 
to  bolder  enterprise,  nor  Alexander's 
thirst  of  fame  lead  to  nobler  exploits. 

"  Backward  to  mingle  in  detested  war, 
"  Yet  foremost  when  engaged ;" 

and  leaving  a  track  of  glory  behind  him, 
wherever  he  went,  he  made  Christendom 
ring  and  the  Ottoman  power  shake  with 
the  thunder  of  his  arms. 

Meanwhile,  the  death  of  his  heir  made 
a  great  revolution  in  the  sentiments  of 
the  elder  Cigala  and  the  destiny  of  his 
vounger  son.  It  was  not  fit  to  let  his 
honours  and  wealth  pass  to  a  distant 
branch,  while  a  true  scion  from  the  pa- 
rent tree  yet  flourished.  He  had  a 
c  2 


28  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

daughter,  it  is  true  ;  but  she  was  an  alien 
from  his  affection,  by  having  clandes- 
tinely married  a  young  Frenchman,  with 
whom  she  had  fled,  he  neither  knew  nor 
cared  to  enquire  whither :  he  was  little 
inclined,  therefore,  to  let  the  offspring  of 
such  a  marriage  inherit  his  property. 

In  consequence  of  these  circumstances, 
he  procured  the  Pope's  dispensation  for 
his  son  Giovanni  (a  favour  not  unfre- 
quently  sought  and  obtained  on  similar 
occasions)  ;  and  thus  released  from  his 
vow  of  celibacy,  and  obedience  to  a  mi- 
litary superior,  Giovanni  reluctantly  re- 
turned into  the  business  and  bustle  of 
every-day  life. 

Although  he  had  long  ceased  to  con- 
sider the  woman  who  had  formerly  infa- 
tuated him,  with  any  other  emotion  than 
contempt,  her  tyranny  rankled  in  his 
memory ;  and  he  shrunk  from  such  ig- 
noble bondage  to  another,  with  something 
of  prejudice. 

This  dread  of  a  passion,  which  is  in- 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  ^9 

deed  either  the  angel  or  the  demon  of 
our  lives,  made  him  shun  those  gay 
scenes  where  women  hold  the  chief 
place;  and  though  he  never  expressed 
his  averseness  to  maiTiage,  nor  suffered 
himself  to  believe  he  might  eventually 
disappoint  his  father's  hope  of  seeing  him 
suitably  allied,  he  had  gone  on  nearly  a 
twelvemonth,  since  his  return  from  Malta, 
without  evincing  the  slightest  inclination 
for  any  of  his  sprightly  countrywomen. 

Yet  Giovanni  was  neither  unsocial  nor 
melancholy.  Perhaps  he  had  more  in- 
ward happiness  than  any  other  man  of 
his  age,  consequently  sought  less  from 
without.  He  was  one  that  loved  to  look 
on  the  fair  side  of  creation :  for  him, 
every  place  had  its  pleasures,  every  sea- 
SQUi  its  enjoyment,  every  prospect  its 
beauty,  every  character  its  excellence, 
and  every  vexation  its  utility. 

Accustomed  to  seek  a  beneficent  cause 
for  every  seeming  hardship,  when  others 
stopped  at  the  saddening  point  of  a  sub- 
c  3 


30  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

ject,  he  would  pursue  it  till  it  emerged  in 
light  and  consolation. 

And  for  all  subjects,  there  is  that 
cloudless  region  !  —  every  trial  and  ca- 
lamity of  the  human  race  terminates 
in  this  brief  passage  from  life  to  immor- 
tality. On  that  glorious  immortality  Gio- 
vanni would  muse  till  his  heart  burnt 
within  him ;  then,  while  taking  his  soli- 
tary autumnal  walk,  they  who  passed 
him,  and  saw  not  the  expression  of  his 
downcast  eyes,  resting  on  the  fallen 
leaves  over  which  he  trod,  might  fancy 
him  wrapt  in  melancholy  contemplation. 
But  so  reading,  they  had  read  him  ill : 
for  if  the  fading  sky  and  withered  woods 
reminded  him  of  the  brevity  of  human 
existence,  the  light  and  life  within  him- 
self, told  him  that  man's  perishable  dust 
enshrines  a  light  which  the  grave  cannot 
extinguish,  and  a  living  principle  over 
which  death  has  no  power. 

Thus,  though  serious,  he  was  not  sad  ; 
though  solitary,  not  unsocial  5  and  the 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  31 

serenity  of  his  countenance  only  reflected 
a  just  image  of  his  soul. 

Report  had  wronged  the  elder  Cigala, 
or  rather  had  mistaken  his  character, 
when  it  charged  him  with  malignant 
motives  in  his  contest  for  the  estate  at 
Nervi.  He  was  actuated  solely  by  a 
selfish  desire  of  acquisition. 

The  elder  Adimari  once  held  the  most 
lucrative  post  under  the  Doge,  the  po- 
destat  of  Corsica ;  Cigala  coveted  it,  in- 
trigued for,  and  got  it.  He  would  have 
done  the  same  thing  by  his  best  friend. 

After  a  lapse  of  years,  accident  dis- 
covered to  him  the  family-deeds  by 
which  he  regained  a  right  to  the  pro- 
perty which  had  been  unwittingly  pur- 
chased by  the  ancestor  of  Adimari ;  his 
greediness  could  not  resist  the  tempt- 
ation ;  and  deceiving  himself,  by  ima- 
gining he  yielded  solely  to  a  laudable 
regard  for  posterity,  he  commenced  and 
prosecuted  the  suit. 

c  4 


3Q  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST,  JOHN- 

During  its  progress,  Signor  Adimari's 
fortune  suffered  by  great  mercantile  mis- 
fortunes ;  the  suit  was  tedious  and  ex- 
pensive ;  his  son*s  absence  was  prolonged 
far  beyond  the  time  stated  for  his  pro- 
bable return ;  and,  in  those  days,  there 
were  no  fixed  modes  of  communication 
between  the  two  hemispheres  5  he  had 
heard  of  him  but  once  during  three 
years  ;  and  the  information  he  sent,  con- 
vinced  his  father  that  the  business  he  had 
gone  on  would  end  in  disappointment  ^ 
w^earied  out,  therefore,  with  hope  de- 
ferred, with  anxiety,  with  increasing  debt, 
with  the  straitening  of  his  bountiful 
spirit,  and  pining  for  his  son,  the  im» 
happy  gentleman  gradually  drooped,  and 
at  length  died^ 

His  death  somewhat  shocked  the  elder 
Cigala ',  but  the  impression  was  not 
strong  enough  to  assist  the  pleadings  of 
Giovanni,  who  ceased  not  to  importune 
his  father  to  drop  the  suit. 

The  suit,  however,  proceeded  against 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN^  33 

the  executors  of  Signor  Adimarij  and 
the  result  is  known* 

With  little  sympathy,  either  in  their 
tastes  or  principles,  the  elder  and  younger 
Cigala  lived  together  in  common-place 
harmony  i  Giovanni  had  that  ascendancy 
over  his  fatlier,  which  a  strong  mind  gains 
over  a  weak  one ;  that  ascendancy  which 
controls  the  actions  of  him  upon  whom 
it  is  exerted,  without  altering  his  incli- 
nations ;  that  ascendancy  which  is  often 
submitted  to  in  private,  in  deference  to 
public  consideration. 

So  meekly  did  Giovanm'  bear  his  no- 
blest qualities,  that  not  one  party  could 
hate  or  vilify  him ;  and  if  the  elder  Ci- 
gala were  susceptible  of  laudable  pride, 
it  was  when  he  heard  his  son^s  integrity 
quoted,  and  liis  knightly  exploits  ex- 
tolled. While  listening  to  praises  be- 
stowed  on  his  son^  he  seemed  to  fancy 
that  his  own  character  was  ennobled  by 
them. 

Thus»  making  a  sort  of  property  of 
c  5 


34  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

Giovanni's  good  report  and  high  endow- 
ments, he  liked  him  not  the  less  for  a 
superiority,  which  would  have  mortified 
him  in  any  other. 

In  one  instance,  hard  was  the  contest 
between  habitual  respect  for  this  excel- 
lent son  and  habitual  selfishness.  For  a 
long  time  Signor  Cigala  resisted  both 
persuasions  and  arguments,  when  Gio- 
vanni would  have  induced  him  to  make 
the  offer  of  considering  the  contested 
estate  as  a  purchase ;  and  at  last  he 
yielded  solely  from  the  fear  of  seeing 
this  admired  son  return  into  the  bosom 
of  the  order  he  had  quitted. 

As  Giovanni  now  recalled  the  scene 
which  had  then  passed,  he  grieved  to 
think  how  unfairly  he  was  estimated  by 
Cesario  Adimari ;  and  to  be  esteemed 
by  Cesario  Adimari,  to  be  absolved  by 
him,  for  being  allied  to  the  person  whose 
triumph  had  been  his  downfall,  was  the 
liveliest  desire  of  Giovanni's  soul. 

Yet  whence   originated  this   desire  ? 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  85 

was  it  from  previous  representations  of 
that  young  man's  filial  piety  *,  or  from  a 
romantic  imagination  ?  was  it  from  pity, 
and  respect,  and  a  sense  of  injury  sus- 
tained by  Cesario  ;  or  was  it  from  the 
mere  tenderness  of  a  nature  prone  to 
trust  and  to  love  ? 

Perhaps  all  these  causes  were  combined : 
perhaps  they  were  rendered  more  powerful 
by  that  solitariness  of  the  heart,  which  is 
felt  by  persons  endowed  with  warm  affec- 
tions, when  surrounded  by  companions 
lower  than  themselves  in  the  scale  of 
moral  and  mental  excellence  ;  and  lower, 
by  countless  fathoms,  than  the  elevated 
standard  of  their  own  imagination. 

But  there  was  another  sentiment,  and 
a  painful  one,  which  harassed  his  hitherto 
tranquil  breast.  He  saw  that  the  extre- 
mity of  the  law  is  not  always  what  would 
be  the  judgment  of  equity.  There  was 
more  in  the  estate  at  Nervi,  to  the  son 
of  Adimari,  than  its  pecuniary  value. 
Giovanni  was  sensible  to  a  ceaseless  whis- 
c  6 


36  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

per  in  his  heart,  that  his  father's  triumpb 
was  unjust.  To  ^em  to  sanction  sucb 
an  act,,  to  appear  to  appropriate  its  fruits,, 
stung  the  high  honour  of  the  Knight  of 
St.  John  to  the  quick;  and  he  felt  that 
he  could  not  rest  day  nor  night,  until  he 
had  ineontiovertibly  asserted  his  inno- 
cence of  the  transaction,  by  a  patient 
endurance  of  its  victim '^s  natural  indig- 
nation, and  a  persevering  devotedness  ta 
his  service:  till  he  had  planted  this  con- 
viction in  the  mind  of  the  injured  Adi- 
mari,  his  own  nobility  of  soul  felt  itself 
stigmatised  and  under  an  impression  of 
disgrace. 

Giovanni  asked  himself  why  he  felt  so^ 
interested  in  Cesario  Adimari ;  and  these 
reasons  satisfied  him  :  but  he  could  not 
so  satisfactorily  answer  his  further  ques- 
tion^ of  what  Cesario's  character  might 
appear,  if  divested  of  the  powerful  inte- 
rest bestowed  on  it  by  his  peculiar  situ- 
ation. 

Giovanni  strove  to  recollect  the  pair- 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  3J 

ticulars  of  Cesario's  countenance,  to 
assist  his  judgment ;  and  he  remembered 
them  distinctly. 

It  seemed  to  him  almost  an  Asiatic 
physiognomy  :  — so  dark,  yet  so  bright  ; 
so  full  of  ai-dent  and  impetuous  passion  ^ 
so  flashing,  so  varied,  so  sparkling :  the 
same  dark-browed  eye  of  diamond  light  5. 
the  same  clear  foreliead,  polished  like 
marble,  and  roimded  by  black  and  glossy 

curls ^Did  the  same  cliaracter  of  devour^ 

ing  fire  lie  beneath  ?  Was  it  a  proud 
soul,  that  east  such  an  air  of  haughty 
majesty  over  the  movements  of  those 
youthful  limbs :  was  it  a  determined 
thirst  for  vengeance,  which  gave  that 
stern  yet  noble  fixtui^e  to  a  lip  which 
seemed  made  for  the  loves  and  graces  to 
hang  on  ? 

And  that  lip,  that  cheek,  that  eye  su- 
preme in  manly  beauty,  might  not  they 
at  once  change  their  lofty  character,  and 
become  the  evidences  of  a  voluptuous- 


38  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

ness  too  often  associated  with  this  keen 
sensibility  to  the  more  stormy  passions  : 

If  experience  were  to  answer  these 
questions  in  the  affirmative,  Giovanni  felt 
that  his  pure  and  kindly  spirit  could 
never  hold  fellowship  with  one  so  differ- 
ent :  but  if  on  the  contrary,  time  should 
4)rove  Cesario  as  capable  of  friendship, 
as  of  filial  affection ;  if  it  should  direct 
his  ardour  to  the  sublime  object  of  self- 
devotion  for  the  advancement  of  his 
country  or  of  his  faith  ;  if  it  should  van- 
quish his  prejudices,  by  the  growth  of  his 
own  virtues  and  wisdom  ;  then  Giovanni 
felt,  that  he  could  grapple  him  to  his 
soul  with  hooks  of  steel  j  and  in  this  yet- 
unconquered  hope  he  went  on  his  quiet 
way. 

The  occupation  of  the  Marino  (for 
such  was  the  name  of  the  house  at 
Nervi)  afforded  much  satisfaction  to 
Signor  Cigala :  it  was  a  constant  source 
of  bitterness  to  his  son.  Although  its 
internal  ornaments  of  furniture,  pictures, 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  39 

marbles,  &c.  had  been  faithfully  surren- 
dered to  the  creditors  of  Adimari,  there 
remained  painful  remembrances  of  its 
former  inhabitant,  in  many  a  rural  embel- 
lishment planned  by  his  taste,  and  many 
an  useful  building  erected  by  him  for 
the  comfort  of  his  tenantry. 

Giovanni  often  entered  the  cottages 
of  the  silk-spinners  and  the  vine-dressers, 
in  the  hope  of  cultivating  their  good- 
will, and  learning  how  best  to  serve  them. 
At  first,  they  received  him  in  sullen 
silence  ;  but  after  repeated  visits,  and 
frequent  attempts  to  draw  them  into 
conversation,  he  won  them  at  lenorth 
into  confidence  ;  and,  prefacing  their 
discourses  with  some  cold  compliments 
to  their  present  lord,  they  w^ould  then 
lament  the  death  of  their  "  good  signor" 
in  terms  of  sincere  grief. 

As  they  described  the  characters  and 
habits  of  the  elder  and  younger  Adimari, 
their  artless  narratives  presented  many  a 
beautiful  picture  of  domestic  happiness. 


40  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHJST- 

It  was  an  union  so  perfect,  a  happiness 
so  pure,  a  condition  so  moderate,  and  so 
little  likely  to  be  interrupted  either  hy 
the  temptations  of  an  elevated  fortune, 
or  the  trials  of  a  depressed  one,  that 
Giovanni  mourned  to  think  his  father's 
hand  had  levelled  so  fair  a  fabric  with 
the  dust. 

One  of  the  oldest  cottagers  had  a 
chronicle  of  every  bush  and  stone  on 
the  estate*  That  summer-house,  over- 
grown with  jessamines,  was  the  place 
where  Signor  Adimari  used  to  take  his 
siesta  in  summer.  Yon  bosquet  of  rosesi 
was  planted  when  the  young  signor  went- 
beyond  seas.  Under  that  palisade  oF 
myrtles,  by  the  great  gates,  the  father 
stood  and  embraced  his  son  for  the 
last  time.  And  on  that  terrace,  he 
used  to  walk  every  morning  and  evening- 
during  the  year  appointed  for  his  return^ 
watching  the  ships  tliat  came  from  the 
east,  and  still  returning,  tliough  still  disi- 
appointed* 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST*  JOHN.  41 

To  this  terrace,  Giovanni  soon  learned 
to  bend  his  pensive  steps,  whenever  a 
melancholy  humour  inclined  him  *'  to 
nurse  sad  fancies  :"  it  was  a  walk  adapt- 
ed for  contemplation,  independent  of  its 
association  in  the  mind  of  Giovanni  with 
the  family  of  Adimari. 

The  Marino  stood  upon  unequal 
ground,  like  all  the  villas  in  that  pic- 
turesque part  of  the  Genoese  coast ;  and 
its  gardens,  extending  over  a  great  sur- 
face of  irregular  hills,  united  their  sunny 
slopes  by  a  succession  of  terraces  and 
flights  of  steps,  which  led  to  the  very 
margin  of  the  sea. 

These  terraces  and  steps,  built  with 
the  green  marble  of  the  Bochetta,  were 
mantled  by  a  variety  of  creeping  plants, 
as  sweet  to  the  sense,  as  delightful  to 
the  eye:  the  ballustrades  of  the  steps 
were  hung  with  them  as  with  garlands. 

It  had  been  Signor  Adimari*s  pleasure 
to  surround  himself  with  these  simple 
luxuries  ;  and  even  where  tlie  pavement 


42  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

of  his  terraces  left  no  soil  for  a  plant,  he 
supplied  the  deficiency  by  occasional 
groupes  of  shrubs  growing  in  porcelaine 
or  alabaster,  and  moveable  at  will. 

From  one  of  these  varying  groves  of 
gay  geraniums,  on  the  highest  terrace, 
rose  a  jet  d'eau,  the  sound  and  sight  of 
the  water  of  which,  soothed  pensiveness 
rather  than  excited  gaiety  :  near  it 
stood  a  magnificent  cedar,  its  branches 
shading  the  shattered  roots  of  a  former 
companion.  These  roots,  now  over- 
grown with  moss  and  violets,  formed 
a  fantastic  yet  easy  seat,  and  had  been 
the  favourite  resting-place  of  Signor  Adi- 
mari.  It  soon  became  the  evening  haunt 
of  Giovanni. 

He  would  bring  his  book  and  read 
there ;  or,  in  the  still  hour  of  vespers, 
he  would  repeat  the  offices  of  that  sacred 
profession,  never  abjured  by  his  heart, 
though  relinquished  in  obedience  to  his 
father.  Still  oftener,  he  would  pace  the 
cold  marble,  musing  with  fruitless  pity 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  4-3 

on  the  many  sad  hours  the  elder  Adhnari 
had  wasted  there,  waiting  for  that  son, 
whose  return  he  was  destined  never  to 
witness ! 

Giovanni's  kindly  heart  calculated  but 
too  well  all  the  pangs  of  that  venerable 
parent.  '*  Here,"  he  would  say,  "  here, 
most  likely,  where  the  marble  is  worn 
upon  the  eastern  edge  of  the  ballustrade, 
he  has  been  used  to  lean,  while  regard- 
ing that  quarter  of  the  horizon  ;  and 
here,  under  the  shade  of  these  old  myr- 
tles, where  the  branches  look  brown  and 
blighted,  perhaps  the  tears  of  the  poor 
father  have  dropped  unheeded,  as  he  sat 
forlorn  and  lonely,  vexed  with  the  cares 
of  law  and  the  disappointment  of 
worldly  hopes  ;  seeking,  in  vain,  a  breast 
whereon  to  weep,  and  foreboding  his 
own  dying  hour  of  yet  sadder  loneli- 
ness." 

In  this  neglected  alcove  Giovanni 
found  a  volume  of  Virgil,  which  had 
fallen  down,  and  been  forgotten,  in  times 


44  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

long  past.  It  opened  of  itself,  at  the 
eleventh  book,  where  the  grief  of  Evan- 
der,  over  the  body  of  the  young  Pallas, 
is  painted  with  such  tenderness  and 
beauty.  The  leaves  of  this  part  of  the 
volume  were  worn  and  discoloured,  too 
probably  with  the  reader's  frequent  tears  ; 
and  Giovanni,  as  he  contemplated  their 
traces,  scarcely  doubted  that  with  the 
affliction  of  the  venerable  Evander,  Adi- 
mari  had  almost  identified  his  own. 

He  had  feared,  then,  the  untimely 
death  of  his  absent  son:  Oh,  could  he 
have  read  the  book  of  fate,  and  seen  his 
own  end  was  so  near !  —  This  precious 
volume  was  often  Giovanni's  companion 
in  his  evening  wanderings;  and  the  ten- 
der strains  of  the  poet,  thus  associated 
with  the  sorrows  of  the  respectable  Adi- 
mari,  unconsciously  heightened  their  dig- 
nity and  deepened  their  interest. 

But  not  in  reveries  of  vain  compas- 
sion, (though  by  such  reveries  are  all 
our  virtues  nourished,  and  preserved  fot 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  45 

action,)  did  Giovanni  pass  his  evening 
hours.  He  sought  to  recompense  his 
father's  new  tenants  for  their  change  of 
masters :  he  prompted,  nay,  he  extorted 
many  a  beneficial  act  from  his  father  in 
their  favour ;  and  his  own  gracious  man- 
ner being  always  interposed  to  shield 
the  grudging  manner  of  that  father 
from  dislike  or  disrespect,  harmony  was 
established,  and  satisfaction  beginning 
to  appear. 

Still,  however,  his  thoughts  were  full 
of  Cesario  Adimari ;  and  the  little  in- 
formation he  could  obtain  of  that  young 
man's  situation  and  plans  troubled  his 
peace. 

He  learned  that,  by  the  sale  of  the  per- 
sonal property,  and  the  pledging  of  his 
land  at  Polchiverra,  Cesario  had  dis- 
charged the  principal  demands  upon 
him  ;  and  that,  having  obtained  the  pro- 
mise of  his  creditors  to  wait  the  event  of 
a  voyage  he  was  about  to  make,  he  was 
preparing  to  sail  in  a  vessel  bound  for 


46  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN". 

the  Levant ;  having  taken  on  himself  the 
charge  of  superintending  the  disposal  of 
her  cargo,  and  that  of  freighting  her 
back,  in  consideration  of  a  valuable  share 
promised  to  him  by  her  owners. 

Giovanni  had  sought,  more  than  .once 
since  their  second  interview,  to  throw 
himself  in  his  way ;  but  whether  or  no 
Cesario  as  purposely  avoided  him,  they 
never  had  directly  met. 

This  perversity  of  accident,  far  from 
abating  Giovanni's  desire  to  win  some 
kindness  from  Cesario,  quickened  it,  by 
causing  him  to  meditate  but  the  oftener 
on  such  pecuhar  ill  luck.  He  did  so, 
till  this  desire  grew  almost  into  a  passion  ; 
and  he  would  cheerfully  have  incurred 
the  risk  of  another,  and  another  repulse, 
had  he  been  assured  that  Cesario  w^ould 
ever  do  his  feelings  justice,  and  separate 
him  from  the  hard  character  of  his  fa- 
ther. 

This,  however,  was  not  probable  j  for 
Cesario  was  entering  upon  a  course  of 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  47 

life  that  would  hereafter  cause  Iiim  to 
pass  the  greater  part  of  his  time  at  sea ; 
and,  when  on  land,  would  keep  him  down 
in  a  society  far,  far  below  the  level  of 
Giovanni  Cigala's  station. 

Giovanni  never  revolved  these  things 
without  a  concern  amounting  to  sorrow  : 
here  was  a  young  man,  born  in  the  class 
of  nobility,  educated  in  the  expectation 
of  an  ample  fortune,  accustomed  to  an- 
ticipate the  future  dignities  of  the  Re- 
public, and  from  general  fame  fitted  to 
win  them  all  in  succession :  liberal  by 
habit  and  by  nature,  keenly  alive  to 
honour  and  dishonour ;  here  was  this 
man,  at  the  age  of  four-and-twenty,  sud- 
denly sunk  to  poverty,  and  forced  to 
seek  the  means  of  preserving  his  father's 
memory  from  popular  reproach  by  em- 
bracing the  humblest  post  of  mercantile 
employment. 

Unfitted  by  his  former  education  and 
habits  to  sympathise  with  any  but  cul- 
tured and  elegant  minds,  he  was  conse- 


48  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

quently  cutoff  from  the  dearest  affections 
of  man,  friendship  and  love;  or  obliged 
to  receive  an  imperfect  image  of  each,  in 
association  without  conformity  of  taste, 
and  marriage  without  the  union  of  mind 
with  that  of  heart. 

Could  Giovanni  have  reversed  this 
hard  fortune,  by  any  sacrifice,  whether 
of  right  or  generosity,  he  would  have 
done  it  joyfully  ;  but  it  was  impossible 
for  him  to  deny,  that  legal  forms,  and  a 
worldly  view  of  right,  furnished  too  many 
arguments  for  an  obligation  on  the  head 
of  the  chief  of  the  Cigali,  to  regain  the 
property  which  had  been  alienated  from 
them  in  times  past;  and  it  was  in  vain 
that  he  spoke  of  a  superior  law  com- 
prised in  that  simple  and  sublime  maxim 
of  the  meek  Jesus,  **  Do  as  thou  wouldest 
be  done  unto." 

His  father,  yielding  through  a  mixture 
of  dastardliness  and  respect  in  less  im- 
portant matters,  where  it  imported  no 
one  to  support  him,  had  been  obstinate 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  49 

in  this  :  for  nearly  all  of  his  name,  having 
a  remote  interest  in  the  family-aggrandise- 
ment, and  being  in  the  line  of  succession, 
fortified  his  sordid  arguments  by  their 
opinions  ;  and  thus  dro\vned  the  single 
generous  voice  of  the  immediate  heir. 

Giovanni,  therefore,  could  do  no  more 
than  lament  that  his  will  was  unaccom- 
panied by  power ;  and  lie  in  wait  for  some 
happy  opportunity  of  serving  the  injured 
Cesario  in  despite  of  himself. 


VOL.  I.  D 


(     50     ) 


CHAPTER  III. 

oiGNOR  Cigala  had  been  settled  above 
two  months  at  the  Marino,  when,  that 
object  obtained,  he  became  a  candidate 
for  the  Prociiratorship,  the  second  dig- 
nity in  the  Repubhc. 

During  the  progress  of  the  election,  he 
frequently  remained  in  the  city  ;  leaving 
his  son  to  the  calm  enjoyment  of  rural 
pleasures,  and  those  higher  gratifications 
connected  with  the  study  of  ancient  worth, 
and  the  well-being  of  his  dependants. 

During  one  of  these  solitary  periods, 
Giovanni  was  returning  from  a  long 
ramble  along  the  sea-shore,  in  haste  to 
avoid  a  storm  ;  (for  it  was  the  end  of  July, 
and  the  thickened  clouds  darkened  his 
way ;)  when  having  entered  the  demesne 
15 


THE    KNIGHT    OF    ST.  JOHN  51 

of  the  Marino,  he  observed  a  figure  dart- 
ing from  a  cypress  grove  into  a  short 
walk  that  led  to  the  chapel. 

The  person  was  wrapped  in  a  cloak 
evidently  for  concealment ;  and  the  ra- 
pidity, yet  apprehensiveness  of  his  move- 
ments, made  Giovanni  pause  and  retreat 
a  few  steps,  to  note  whither  he  went. 

Seeing  this  person  still  go  on,  he  fol- 
lowed him  softly ;  sheltering  himself  at 
intervals  under  the  broad  shade  of  the 
trees,  lest  he  should  be  obsen^ed  in  his 
turn. 

What  was  his  surprise  to  see  tbis  man, 
(after  having  vainly  tried  the  door)  mount 
by  one  of  the  buttresses  to  a  window, 
which,  yielding  to  his  rough  shake,  left 
him  a  free  passage  into  the  interior. 

The  chapel,  dedicated  to  the  martyr 
Stephen,  was  richly  furnished  with  images 
and  religious  vessels,  composed  of  gold 
and  precious  stones  :  it  contained  also  the 
relics  of  many  eminent  saints,  and  the 
consecrated  garments  of  the  officiating 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILUNOIS 


52  THE    KNIGHT    OF    ST.  JOHN. 

priest.  All  these  treasures  were  sacred 
to  every  good  Catholic ;  but  infinitely 
more  so,  to  one  who  had  formerly  vowed 
to  devote  his  life  to  the  preservation  of 
the  Christian  faith,  and  whatever  related 
to  it. 

Alarmed  lest  this  suspicious  person 
were  one  of  a  gang  purposed  to  pillage 
the  chapel  of  these  holy  things,  Giovanni 
hastened  to  a  low  door  at  the  further  end 
of  the  building,  of  which  he  remembered 
having  the  key  ;  he  opened  it  softly,  and 
closing  it  with  equal  caution,  shut  himself 
in  with  the  robber. 

The  stained  glass  of  the  long  pointed 
windows,  and  the  shadows  of  the  high 
crocketted  pinnacles  which  rose  above 
them,  together  with  the  drooping  ban- 
ners of  the  knights  mouldering  below, 
increased  the  darkness  of  the  place. 
Giovanni  felt  for  his  dagger,  and  stood 
steadily  observant,  behind  the  light 
tracery  of  one  of  the  shrines. 

The  person  advanced  eagerly.—-"  This 


THE   KNIGHT    OF    ST.  JOHN.  53 

—  this  is  the  spot  !*'  —  he  cried  in  a  voice 
that  made  Giovanni's  heart  thrill ;  in  a 
voice  which  he  could  not  mistake,  but 
which  he  had  never  before  heard  utter 
such  piercing  and  tender  sounds.  **  O  my 
father  —  and  is  it  here  I  find  thee  !*' 

It  was  Cesario  Adimari  that  now  cast 
himself  on  the  pavement  of  the  chapel, 
where  a  single  square  of  black  marble 
denoted  the  place  he  sought. 

He  spoke  no  more  ;  but  relaxed  from 
every  sterner  feeling,  his  tears  and  groans 
echoed  through  the  hollow  aisles  5  and  the 
frequent  kisses  he  bestowed  on  the  in- 
sensible marble,  testified  the  love  he  had 
borne  to  him  who  slept  beneath. 

Giovanni  was  root-bound  :  he  would 
have  given  his  life  for  the  power  of  trans- 
porting himself  to  another  scene.  It  was 
horror  to  him,  thus  to  profane  ^vith  sa- 
crilegious eyes  the  sacred  sorrow  of  a  son 
taking  a  last  farewell  of  the  ashes  of  a 
father  j  to  hear,  perhaps,  the  confessions 
of  a  soul  burdened  with  the  weight  of 
D  3 


54  THE   KNIGHT    OF    ST.  JOHN. 

remembered  cmiissions ;  and  magnifying 
its  frailties  into  crimes.  He  tried  to  move, 
but  bis  limbs  sbook  under  him ;  be  es- 
sayed to  speak,  but  utterance  failed  him  ; 
—  again  the  doleful  accents  of  Cesario 
were  heard  in  the  chapel. 

*'  O  my  father !  thou  hearest  me,  thdii 
beholdest  me  in  this  wretched  hour  1 
strengthen  me  to  bear  my  lonely  and 
altered  fate  —  forgive  me  for  all  my  past 
offences  against  thee !  —  O  ask  for  me, 
courage  to  resist  the  weakness  of  my  own 
nature,  and  the  seductions  of  a  race  I 
ought  to  hate  —  for  they  murdered  thee." 

•*  Hold,  Adimari!"  interrupted  Gio- 
vanni, recovering  his  voice,  though  unable 
to  advance,  —  **  you  are  not  alone." — 

Cesario  was  silent  for  an  instant  with 
surprise  and  resentment ;  then  hastily 
starting  up,  he  exclaimed,  "What,  sir, 
do  you  persecute  me  even  here  ?"  — 

Giovanni  briefly  explained  the  mistake 
which  had  led  him  into  the  chapel.  He 
opened  the  door  behind  him  as  he  spoke, 


THE   KNIGHT    OF    ST.  JOHN.  55 

and  let  in   the   little   light   which    yet 
brightened  in  the  evening  sky. 

That  doubtful  light  fell  full  upon  the 
figure  of  Cesario,  as  he  stood  supporting 
himself  against  a  monument ;  it  showed 
him  pale,  dejected,  his  eyes  swollen  with 
weeping,  and  all  his  features  marked  with 
the  languor  of  exhausted  feelings. 

That  countenance  was  robbed  of  the 
fire  and  ferocity  of  grief  with  which 
Giovanni  had  formerly  seen  it  agitated  ; 
but  never  had  it  been  so  affecting,  never 
so  powerful  over  his  sympathising  heart. 

He  lingered  ere  he  w^nt :  and  perhaps 
Cesario  felt  the  influence  of  that  profound 
interest  painted  in  the  looks  of  Giovanni, 
and  which  he  was  desirous  of  shunning, 
for  he  only  motioned  him  to  be  gone, 
and  turned  back  into  the  aisle. 

"  I  would  you  could  see  what  is  passing 

here !"   exclaimed  Giovanni,  striking  his 

breast   with  fervour,    after  having  con» 

templated  him  for  some  time  in  silence. 

"  What  matters  it?"  asked  Cesario,  his 

D  4 


Ob  THE    KNIGHT    OF    ST.  JOHN. 

brow  clouding ;  <*  what  imports  it  to  you 
or  me,  how  we  think  of  each  other  ?  — 
you  are  a  Cigala,  I,  an  Adimari,  the  last 
of  the  Adimari !  —  a  crowd  of  lifeless 
bodies, Ihat  once  bore  those  hostile  names, 
lie  here,  'tis  true,  mingled  together  ;  but 
for  the  sons  of  Paulo  Cigala  and  Ludo- 
vico  Adimari  so  to  mingle,  is  impossible, 
either  in  life  or  death." 

**  Am  I  answerable  for  my  birth  ?'* 
enquired  Giovanni,  hazarding  a  step 
nearer. 

*«  I  am  no  casuist,^'  returned  Cesario, 
gloomily ;  and  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the 
spot  where  his  father  lay. 

A  long  silence  followed.  Giovanni 
almost  fancied  he  heard  heavy  drops  fall- 
ing upon  the  inanimate  marble :  the  light 
was  so  indistinct  that  he  could  only  see 
at  that  short  distance  the  shadowy  out- 
line of  Cesario's  figure ;  but  had  he  been 
nearer,  he  might  indeed  have  heard,  nay, 
he  might  have  seen  the  big  drops  chasing- 
one  another  down  the  pale  cheeks  of  the 


THE    KNIGHT    OF    ST.  JOHN.  57 

mourner,  and  falling  like  rain  upon  the 
tomb.  But  though  he  guessed  from 
Cesario's  silence  that  he  wept,  he  was  far 
from  guessing  that  he  himself  had  any 
share  in  such  emotion. 

In  truth,  Cesario's  proud  heart  was 
softened  by  the  present  scene;  by  his 
previous  abandonment  to  the  tenderest 
lamentations ;  by  the  thought  that  he 
was  about  to  quit  his  country  once  more  ; 
and  by  the  very  forlornness  of  his  own 
fortune. 

At  such  a  moment,  how  precious  would 
a  friend  have  been  to  him !  how  inestim- 
able the  relief  of  throwing  himself  upon 
any  sympathising  breast;  and  then  suffer- 
ing his  grief  to  burst  its  flood-gates,  and 
pour  out  in  lamentation  and  praises  of  the 
object  lost. 

But  that  relief  could  not  be ;  it  was  a 
Cigala  that  invited  him  to  confidence  and 
affection;  it  was  the  son  of  the  man  whose 
malice  or  avidity  had  caused  the  death  of 
his  father:  no,  it  could  never  be.  Did 
D  5 


58  THE    KNIGHT    OF    ST.  JOHN. 

Giovanni  speak  with  the  tongue  of  an 
angel,  he  should  never  turn  him  from 
what  he  believed  his  duty  —  enmity  to 
all  their  race. 

Suddenly  steeled  against  the  weakness 
which  unmanned  him  but  a  few  moments 
before,  Cesario  gathered  his  disturbed 
garments  round  him  with  an  air  of  severe 
dignity,  and  said,  —  "I  come  not  here, 
Signor,  to  be  the  gaze  of  any  man  ;  my 
business  was  with  the  dead.  —  But  I 
should  have  asked  permission  to  have 
entered  this  place,  I  know  I  should  :  — 
by  heavens,  I  could  not  ask  it !  —  yet,  I 
do  you  justice  ;  and  as  a  proof,  I  will  ask 
of  you  the  only  favour  Cesario  Adimari 
ever  asked  of  any  man." 

"  Ask  any  thing  —  every  thing  I  —  I 
promise!*'  —  exclaimed  Giovanni,  ar- 
dently pressing  towards  him. 

Cesario  turned  his  brimming  eyes  down- 
ward, —  '*  Preserve  this  piece  of  marble 
from  insult,  or  removal." 


THE    KNIGHT    OF    ST.  JOHN.  59 

"  So  may  I  hope  for  mercy  —  so  may 
I  hope  at  length  to  win  your '' 

"  Friendship,"  he  would  have  added  j 
but,  wresting  from  him  the  hand  he  had 
rashly  taken,  Cesario  rushed  from  the 
chapel ;  and  well  knowing  all  the  garden- 
paths,  soon  reached  the  lowest  terrace  ; 
whence  leaping  into  a  boat  that  waited 
for  him,  he  was  half  way  to  the  vessel  he 
was  to  sail  in,  ere  Giovanni  had  recovered 
from  his  confused  amazement. 


D  6 


(    oo    ) 


CHAPTER  IV. 


r  IVE  months  after  this,  Cesario  Adimari 
returned  to  Genoa,  one  of  a  wretched 
remnant  saved  from  shipwreck  on  the 
coast  of  Calabria. 

During  his  eventful  absence,  he  had 
often  recalled  the  countenance  and  con- 
duct of  the  younger  Cigala ;  and,  in  spite 
of  himself,  had  done  so  with  some  regret 
for  the  hard  necessity  (as  he  falsely 
deemed  it)  which  forbade  him  to  indulge 
any  sentiment  for  him  less  potent  than 
averseness. 

Previous  to  the  visit  he  paid  the  burial- 
place  of  his  father,  he  had  gone  amongst 
some  of  the  oldest  cottagers,  and  ques- 
tioned  them   on    the    ruthless    changes 


TttE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHV.  61 

which,  he  took  it  for  granted,  were  mak- 
ing in  this  favourite  habitation. 

He  had  heard  then,  with  a  mixture  of 
disappointment  and  reluctant  pleasure, 
that  some  improvements  might  be  found 
on  the  estate,  but  no  alterations  had  been 
made  in  the  house  or  gardens.  Many 
had  been  projected  by  their  new  lord, 
but  every  peasant  could  testify  that 
vSignor  Giovanni  had  always  an  argument 
or  a  prayer  in  favour  of  the  old  order  of 
things  ;  and  so  they  remained. 

Not  a  shrub  was  uprooted,  nor  a  fancy 
building  pulled  down,  which  Signor  Adi- 
mari  had  planted,  or  built,  or  frequented. 

His  seat  under  the  huge  cedar  upon 
the  upper  terrace,  stood  there  still :  Sig- 
ner Giovanni  would  not  let  it  go  by  any 
other  name.  And  the  white  owl  which 
had  built  in  that  cedar  so  many  years, 
he  protected  even  her,  when  he  was  told 
that  Signor  Adimari  used  to  feed  her. 

Nay,  Giovanni  carried  this  respect  for 
the  dead  into  more  important  concerns. 


62  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

He  distributed  alms  on  the  same  days  as 
had  been  appointed  in  the  time  of  his 
predecessor ;  he  procured  for  the  servi- 
tors and  labourers  the  same  privileges 
granted  by  Adimari,  and  he  observed 
the  same  festivals.  In  short,  every  thing 
looked  as  it  did  formerly;  and  nothing 
was  missed  by  the  neighbouring  poor, 
but  the  gracious  countenance  of  their 
ancient  signor,  and  the  charming  spec- 
tacle of  his  son's  filial  fondness.  Poor 
Giovanni  had  not  such  a  father,  so  to  love 
and  honour. 

With  these  details  making  their  way  in 
his  heart,  Cesario  had  gone  to  the  tombs 
of  his  ancestors;  and,  with  an  additional 
motive  for  esteeming  Giovanni  Cigala,  he 
had  broken  from  the  increasing  influence 
of  his  presence ;  had  carried  its  impres- 
sion with  him  through  a  fatiguing  but 
prosperous  speculation  ;  and  was  now  re- 
turned with  those  recollections  blunted, 
not  effaced,  by  subsequent  misfortune. 
The  fruit  of  his  toil,  the  foundation  on 


THE  KXIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  63 

which  he  hoped  to  build  f  utui'e  respecta- 
bility, together  with  the  property  his 
employers  had  risked,  was  destroyed. 
All  had  sunk  in  the  richly -freighted  ship 
with  which  he  was  returning  to  Genoa ; 
and  at  this  period  he  was  poorer  and 
more  desperate  than  when  he  set  forth. 

Cesario  landed  in  the  gloom  of  a  tliick 
^vinter-fog,  which  had  gathered  after  the 
ship  cast  anchor.  He  took  his  way  along 
the  Strada  Nuova,  towards  the  house  of 
a  kinsman  in  the  Piazza  dell'  Acqua 
Verde,  where  he  had  formerly  found 
hospitality. 

In  the  l6th  century,  even  the  princi- 
pal cities  of  Italy  were  only  lighted  by 
tapers  burning  before  the  images  of  saints 
and  virgins  in  different  quarters,  and  by 
the  lamps  in  the  porticoes  of  palaces  and 
public  buildings. 

Thus,  while  one  part  of  a  street  was 
glaringly  illuminated,  others  remained  in 
total  darkness  ;  making  them  unpleasant 
and  unsafe,  tempting  assassination  by  the 


64  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

immediate  obscurity  into  which  a  mur- 
derer might  rush,  after  having  found  his 
victim  in  the  brightness  of  some  enlight- 
ened colonnade. 

Cesario  was  habitually  finding  his  way 
through  streets  familiar  to  him  from  in- 
fancy, scarcely  sensible  of  their  greater 
darkness ;  when,  in  passing  the  church 
of  the  Annonciata,  he  saw  the  door  open, 
and  guessed  by  the  just-kindled  tapers 
within,  that  vespers  were  not  yet  begun. 

The  home  of  the  destitute  is  the  house 
of  God :  and  whatever  ceremonies  are 
performed  there,  it  is  there  the  unhappy 
of  every  condition  and  every  sect  find 
comfort  and  refuge.  Cesario  turned  into- 
the  church. 

No  one  was  there,  besides  the  two  or 
three  servants  of  the  chapels,  whom  he 
saw  at  a  distance  through  the  aisles,  pre-y 
paring  the  vessels  and  censors. 

The  tapers  before  the  different  shrines, 
not  thoroughly  lighted,  threw  quivering 
and  fitful  gleams  round  the  immediate 
spots  whereon  they  stood.     The  larger 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  65 

branches  of  lights  on  the  altar,  and  in 
the  dome,  were  not  yet  kindled ;  so  that 
but  a  kind  of  twilight  filled  the  church  : 
that  sort  of  slowly-clearing  twilight  which 
precedes  the  rising  of  the  moon. 

Imperfect  as  objects  were,  Cesario  ob- 
served that  a  chapel  to  the  left  of  the 
nave  was  hung  with  mourning  and  boughs 
of  cypress. 

He  approached,  and  entered  it. 

A  bier,  raised  a  few  feet  from  the 
ground,  and  surrounded  by  gigantic 
black  tapers  burning  in  silver  candela- 
bras,  occupied  the  vacant  space  before 
the  altar.  In  that  age,  it  was  customary 
at  Genoa,  as  it  still  is  at  Florence,  to  ex- 
pose the  dead  for  several  days  before  they 
are  buried.  Cesario  drew  nigh  to  look  at 
the  deceased. 

It  was  a  young  man  bound  in  grave - 
clothes,  his  golden  hair  encircled  with  a 
garland  of  narcissus  :  the  bier  he  lay  on 
was  covered  with  the  same  pale  flowers  j 
and,  at  the  head  of  it,  half  lost  among 


66  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

large  branches  of  myrtle,  hung  the 
armorial  bearings  of  his  family. 

Cesario  stooped  to  examine  the  face* 
Mighty  God!  he  saw  the  features  of 
Giovanni  Cigala!  He  glanced  to  the 
shield  above  that  motionless  head :  it 
was  the  twice-crowned  eagle  of  the 
Cigali. 

He  staggered  —  he  fell  against  the 
steps  of  the  sanctuary.  Stunned  with 
the  shock,  at  that  moment  Cesario  felt 
that  he  had  never  been  able  to  hate 
Giovanni. 

Drawn  thither,  either  by  the  exclam- 
ation that  had  escaped  Cesario,  or  in  the 
execution  of  his  duties,  one  of  the  ser- 
vitors entered  the  chapel.  Seeing  a  per* 
son  leaning  against  the  rails  of  the  altar, 
he  stopped  and  said  something :  Cesario 
recovered  himself. 

"  Whose  body  is  that  ?'*  he  asked  in  a 
voice  full  of  dismay. 

•<  The  body  of  Signor  Matteo  Cigala," 
replied  the  man. 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  Qj 

**  Jesu  be  praised  1  I  thought  it  had 
been  Giovanni." 

*<  The  kinsmen  were  much  alike>*'  re- 
turned the  servitor,  settling  some  of  the 
furniture  of  the  altar. 

'*  Then  the  Signor  Giovanni  is  well  ?'' 
asked  Cesario,  approaching  the  bier  again 
with  a  steadier  step,  and  contemplating 
the  face  he  had  so  painfully  mistaken. 

**  He  was  at  mass  here,  yesterday," 
replied  the  man.  *'  Poor  gentleman  !  he 
looks  but  thin  and  pale  since  the  old 
signor  died." 

"What!  and  is  he  also  dead?"  en- 
quired Cesario,  powerfully  struck. 

The  servitor  repeated  his  information, 
with  the  addition  of  the  time  and  circum- 
stances of  the  elder  Cigala's  death. 

Cesario  no  longer  heard  what  was  said; 
his  mind  had  rushed  back  to  the  time  of 
his  last  return  after  long  absence,  when 
the  destroying  angel  had  passed  over  his 
house,  and  left  it  desolate.  There  was 
something  striking  in  the  resemblance  of 


68  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

the  two  periods :  His  true,  it  was  only  a 
confused  resemblance ;  a  similarity  which 
disappeared  on  examination  ;  but,  at  any 
rate,  it  was  a  something  that  connected 
both  periods  and  both  events  5  and  it  had 
tlie  effect  of  awing  Cesario's  dominant 
passion  into  silence. 

In  another  place,  and  told  to  him  under 
the  impression  of  other  feelings,  the  news 
of  Signor  Cigala's  death  might  have  sent 
a  flash  of  gloomy  joy  through  his  breast ; 
it  might  have  seemed  to  him  a  just  sacri- 
fice to  his  father's  manes  :  now,  he  pon- 
dered on  it  without  triumph  ;  and  as  he 
thought  of  Giovanni  thin  and  pale  as 
the  servitor  described,  he  muttered  with 
a  smothered  sigh,  "  Perhaps  he  loved 
him  1" 

The  vesper  bell  had  begun  to  ring 
while  this  conversation  proceeded  :  seve- 
ral persons  were  already  come  in,  and 
taking  their  places. 

Cesario  hastily  passed  from  the  chapel 
of  the  CigaU  into  the  body  of  the  church  5 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  69 

and,  mixing  there  with  the  rest  of  the 
congregation,  partook  of  that  spiritual 
refreshment  which  all  needed,  but  which 
none  sought  with  more  earnestness  than 
he. 


(     70     ) 


CHAPTER  V. 

In  the  business  of  the  succeeding  day, 
Cesaiio  dissipated  the  most  painful  of 
those  recollections  which  this  incident 
had  revived.  He  had  to  see  the  mer- 
chants with  whom  he  was  engaged ;  to 
explain  to  them  the  circumstances  of  his 
shipwreck,  and  to  produce  proofs  of  his 
zeal  and  ability  in  the  discharge  of  his 
ill-fated  commission. 

The  case  was  clearly  mere  misfortune ; 
blame  fell  on  no  one  :  the  merchants 
W'Cre  men  of  liberal  feelings  ;  and,  hav- 
ing made  up  their  minds  to  their  own 
loss,  they  oiFered  Cesario  the  chance  of 
another  adventure. 

But  Cesario  was  not  formed  for  a  life 
of  plodding  calculation  :  he  had  only  his 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  71 

own  necessities  to  supply ;  and  he  re- 
tained the  prejudices  of  his  birth,  which, 
even  in  a  mercantile  city,  made  it  dis- 
graceful for  nobility  to  take  a  personal 
share  in  commerce. 

Could  he  obtain  longer  indulgence 
from  his  father's  creditors,  he  determined 
to  enter  the  navy  of  the  republic  :  there 
fortune  might  be  more  favourable  to 
him  than  in  the  sphere  of  commercial 
speculation  :  at  all  events,  his  poverty 
would  then  be  that  of  a  gentleman  ;  and 
from  his  slender  pay  he  might  annually 
set  one  portion  apart  for  the  liquidation 
of  his  pecuniary  engagements.  But 
though  Cesario  found  sympathy  and 
kindness  from  many,  his  difficulties  were 
not  of  a  kind  to  be  quickly  removed  : 
the  chief  obstacle  lay  in  his  own  cha- 
racter. 

Abhon-ent  of  obligation,  because 
hitherto  unused  to  it,  he  could  not 
brook  the  idea  of  extending  the  chain, 
by  paying  his  father's  debts  wkh  money 


72  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

lent  to  him  by  a  friend.  To  accept 
money  as  a  donation,  was  a  humiliation 
that  never  crossed  his  thoughts  ;  nor  to 
such  a  spirit  would  his  warmest  con- 
nections have  dared  to  offer  it.  It  was 
galling  enough  for  him  to  solicit  time 
from  the  persons  whose  claims  he  ac- 
knowledged; it  was  a  sufficient  victory 
over  his  proud  independence,  to  bend  it 
before  the  necessity  of  claiming  the  hos- 
pitality of  a  distant  kinsman,  whose 
habitation,  nevertheless,  had  been  be- 
stowed on  him  by  the  elder  Adimari. 

Happily,  this  kinsman  was  not  a  per- 
son by  whom  obligation  is  pressed  with 
coarse  freedom  :  he  was  a  man  in  the  au- 
tumn of  life,  married,  but  childless;  not 
burdened  with  riches,  though  possessing 
enough  for  the  decent  elegancies  of 
life.  He  was  syndic  to  the  senate  ;  and, 
after  the  official  business  of  the  day,  was 
glad  to  find  Cesario's  interesting  coun- 
tenance, and  varied  discourse,  added  to 
the  sober  society  of  his  elderly  wife. 
'  13 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  73 


From  the  moment  Cesario  came  to  re- 
side with  him,  when  driven  from  his  pa- 
ternal roof,  the  Syndic  had  considered 
his  house  as  his  young  kinsman's  home : 
he  never  thought  of  telHng  him  so,  be- 
cause he  considered  the  thing  impos- 
sible to  be  doubted  :  it  was  the  natural 
course  of  relationship ;  he  acted  upon 
this  worthy  feeling  ;  and  Cesario,  there- 
fore, did  feel  at  home  ;  and  believing  his 
gratitude  gratuitous,  bestowed  it  with 
fuller  measure. 

The  Syndic,  when  consulted,  saw  no 
objection  to  his  kinsman's  choice  of  the 
naval  service :  he  might  rise  in  it  to 
honour  and  fortune ;  ibr  his  father's 
name  was  still  remembered  with  terror 
by  the  enemies  of  Genoa,  and  with  re- 
spect by  its  friends. 

The  return  of  Cesario  Adimari,  and 
Iiis  increased  distresses,  were  not  long 
unknown  to  Giovanni.  He  heard  of  his 
intended  application  for  admission  into 
the  service ;  and  still  anxious   to  assist 

VOL.  I.  E 


74  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

him,  he  went  privately  to  the  person  who 
superintended  the  marine  in  the  absence 
of  the  Prince  of  Melii,  and  obtained  his 
promise  to  place  the  noble  adventurer  in 
the  situation  most  favourable  to  the  de- 
velopment of  his  capacity. 

Giovanni  would  fain  have  gone  fai'ther, 
and  supplied  every  thing  necessary  for 
the  ample  enuipment  of  the  new  sailor ; 
but  he  remembered  the  fiery  spirit  he 
had  to  deal  with,  and,  afraid  of  alarming 
its  jealous  delicacy,  forbore  to  indulge 
his  own  amiable  wishes. 

For  some  indulgence,  indeed,  Gio- 
vanni's heart  groaned.  He  loathed  the 
cumbersome  wealth  of  which  he  was  now 
the  sole  possessor,  since  part  of  it  was 
the  spoil  of  another's  inheritance.  But 
how  could  he  relieve  himself  from  it? 
An  hereditary  estate  regained  was  not  his 
to  restore  ;  there  were  numerous  expect- 
ants of  the  Cigala  family  to  challenge 
the  succession  ;  besides  which,  there  was 
yet   a  probability    (and   Giovanni    che- 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHX.  '^5 

rished  the  hope)  of  the  inheritance  being 
hereafter  claimed  by  his  sister,  or  by  her 
children. 

Three  years  had  elapsed  since  the  dis- 
appearance of  Amadea  Cigala  with  the 
Chevalier  de  Fronsac ;  and  as  their  father's 
anger  would  not  allow  any  extensive  en- 
quiries to  be  made  after  her  and  her 
husband,  Giovanni  hoped  that  the  search 
he  was  now  instituting  would  be  siic- 
cessful. 

Much  as  he  censured  the  action  by 
which  she  had  forfeited  her  paternal 
roof,  his  gentle  nature  found  much  to 
excuse  in  the  imprudent  conduct  of  a  child, 
who  yields  to  the  eloquence  of  a  young 
man  by  whom  she  is  adored,  to  avoid 
an  union  with  one  of  an  austere  character 
and  forbidding  aspect. 

AMien  Giovanni  embraced  the  profes- 
sion of  knighthood,  his  sister  had  just 
attained  her  tenth  year,  and  four  years 
afterwards  she  eloped  with  the  Che- 
valier. Thus  he  knew  her  only  as  an 
E   2 


76  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

innoGent  and  lovely  little  girl,  whose 
caresses  used  to  touch,  and  playful  spirits 
amuse  him  :  but  he  had  none  of  those 
extensive  associations  of  mind  and  heart 
with  her,  which  form  the  dearest  bond  of 
fraternal  affection,  and  which  render  the 
void  left  by  its  object  lost,  avoid  never  to 
be  filled! 

He  therefore  prosecuted  his  enquiries, 
rather  for  her  sake  than  for  his  own. 

In  the  very  thick  of  these  cares,  he 
heard,  by  an  extraordinary  chance,  that 
one  of  Cesario  Adimari's  creditors  (the 
only  one,  be  it  recorded  for  the  honour 
of  human  nature,  who  had  not  shown 
the  most  generous  forbearance)  was  de-" 
termined  to  arrest  his  person  for  the  pay- 
ment of' his  father's  funeral;  believing 
that  by  this  act  he  should  force  Cesario 
to  obtain  the  sum  from  his  friends. 

Without  stopping  to  consider  the  effect 
it  might  produce  upon  Cesario,  Giovanni 
hastened  to  discharge  this  debt.  It  was 
no  sooner  done,  than  he  recalled  the 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  /? 

proud  aversion  which  Cesario  had  always 
shown  him  ;  and  he,  therefore,  made  the 
persons  concerned,  promise  never  to 
reveal  the  name  of  him  who  had  satisfied 
them.  In  the  midst  of  various  tumultuous 
plans  for  appeasing  his  rapacious  creditor, 
and  of  gloomy  forbodings,  that  by  this 
means  he  should  be  deprived  of  liberty 
and  honour,  Cesario  was  surprised  by  the 
sudden  withdrawal  of  that  demand. 

He  went  to  the  creditor ;  he  heard 
that  the  debt  was  paid,  but  the  man  de- 
clined satisfying  him  further. 

Instantly  suspecting  to  whom  he  owed 
this  cruel  obligation,  Cesario  questioned 
the  partners  of  the  house  again  and  agaiif. 
He  looked  steadily  in  their  faces,  while 
he  deliberately  named  several  persons  by 
whom  it  was  possible  this  favour  might 
have  been  thrust  on  him. 

At  the  name  of  Signor  Giovanni 
Cigala,  he  fancied  their  denials  were 
fainter,  and  their  looks  less  assured.  His 
E  S 


78  THiE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHIST. 

Opinion  was  settled ;  his  resolution  taken ; 
and  he  left  them. 

When  he  entered  the  Syndic's  house, 
Cesario  went  straight  to  his  own  apart- 
ment ;  where,  opening  a  small  box  con- 
taining the  last  letter  and  the  hair  of 
his  father,  he  took  out  the  only  relic  he 
preserved  of  that  father,  which  had  a 
value  independent  of  its  reference  to 
him. 

It  was  indeed  a  relic  of  great  price : 
a  diamond  which  the  immortal  Doria  had 
wrested  from  the  hand  of  a  Turkish 
prince,  which  he  had  worn  constantly 
on  his  finger  till  the  invasion  of  Africa  by 
Charles  V. 

At  that  disastrous  period,  in  the  me- 
morable storm  which  scattered  the  Chris- 
tian fleet,  and  wrecked  its  noblest  vessels 
on  the  Moorish  coast,  the  ship  that  car- 
ried the  young  hero,  Gianettino  Doria, 
was  stranded  on  a  point  of  land,  and  in 
imminent  danger  of  being  taken  by  the 
enemy. 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  79 

The  galley  of  his  uncle  the  great  Andrea, 
(who  commanded  the  fleet,)  was  labour- 
ing against  the  same  enraged  elements  j 
and  though  too  remote  to  succour  his 
nephew,  was  near  enough  to  perceive 
his  peril,  and  partake  his  despair. 

Knowing  it  impossible  to  save  their 
^hip,  and  preferring  death  to  slavery,  the 
crew  of  the  stranded  vessel  cast  them- 
selves into  the  sea,  hoping  to  reach 
such  of  the  Imperial  fleet,  as  yet  rode  out 
the  storm. 

Meanwhile  the  great  Andrea  stood 
upon  the  deck  of  his  distant  galley, 
watching  the  movements  of  his  nephew 
wath  torturing  anxiety. 

Gianettino  was  the  only  one  who  did 
not  perish  at  that  awful  moment :  he  was 
seen  clinging  to  an  oar  which  he  had 
fortunately  reached,  struggling  for  life, 
yet  still  gallantly  retaining  the  flag. 

A  boat  from  the  admiral's  ship,  (manned 
with  volunteers,  determined  to  risk  every 
danger  in  the  attempt  to  rescue  the 
E  4 


80  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

nephew  of  their  beloved  chief,)  though 
launched  with  the  utmost  haste,  was  not 
in  time  to  meet  him  :  exhausted  by  the 
weight  of  the  dripping  banner,  and  the 
fatigue  of  contending  with  the  sea,  he 
let  go  his  hold,  and  sank. 

Signor  Adimari,  then  a  young  and  vi- 
gorous man,  seeing  the  danger  of  his 
friend,  plunged  overboard  from  the  boat; 
and  buiFetting  the  outrageous  billows 
with  the  strength  of  enthusiastic  reso- 
lution, reached  the  wave  above  which 
Gianettino's  bright  face  was  raised  for  an 
instant, — that  would  have  been  his  last 
look  of  this  world,  had  not  Adimari 
grasped  him  by  the  hair.  Holding  his 
gallant  prey  with  one  hand,  with  the 
other  he  supported  himself  against  the 
roaring  current,  until  rescued  by  the 
boat ;  whence  he  was  transferred  with 
the  young  hero  and  the  banner  of  the 
Republic  to  the  vessel  of  the  admiral. 

It  was  on  this  occasion  that  the  vener- 
able patriot  exclaimed,  while  clasping  this 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHX.  iSl 

beloved  nephew  in  his  arms, — ^**  Heaven 
has  permitted  thee  to  be  in  such  extre- 
mity, only  to  show  the  world  that  Andrea 
Doria  can  shed  a  tear.*' 

The  ring  Cesario  now  held  in  his 
hand,  had  been  transferred  at  that 
moment  from  the  finger  of  Andrea  to 
that  of  Adimari.  It  was  the  pledge  of 
their  futurse  friendship  ;  it  was  the  me- 
morial of  his  father's  intrepidity,  and  of 
Doria's  gratitude ;  it  was  the  sacred  wit- 
ness of  an  affection  between  youth  and 
age  in  the  persons  of  son  and  nephew, 
than  which  neither  ancient  nor  modern 
history  hath  aught  superior. 

Yet  this  ring  he  must  either  part 
with,  merely  for  its  intrinsic  value,  (which 
was  in  truth  prodigious,)  and  so  let  it 
pass  into  the  common  tide  of  costly  or- 
naments ;  or  he  must  sit  down  under  the 
load  of  an  obligation  to  a  Cigala ;  or  he 
must  do  violence  to  his  proud  nature, 
and  ask  of  the  Dorias  an  equivalent  for 
E  5 


82  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

the  Jewel,  he  should  offer  to  render  back 
to  their  family. 

Each  of  these  alternatives  had  its  mor- 
tifications, yet  of  one  he  must  make 
choice. 

The  two  first  he  dismissed  after  a 
short  consideration  5  the  last  he  revolved 
several  times. 

According  to  every  received  notion, 
the  Doria  family  certainly  stood  indebted 
to  his  father  for  a  benefit  which  no  pecu- 
niary consideration  could  requite ;  .  any 
present,  however  princely,  could  only  be 
considered  a  pledge  of  their  eternal  gra- 
titude ;  yet,  since  the  death  of  the  great 
Andrea,  the  Adimari  had  never  sought 
or  needed  their  favour. 

It  is  true,  the  Podestat  of  Corsica  had 
been  given  to  Signor  Adimari  by  Andrea 
Doria's  voluntary  influence ;  but  it  had 
been  transferred  from  him  to  Signor 
Cigala  after  Andrea's  death ;  and  Adi- 
mari, (hastily  ascribing  this  mortification 
to  lukewarmness  in  his  friend's  successor, 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  83 

Gianettino,)  silently  displeased,  mthdrew 
from  those  habits  of  intimacy  which  had 
been  the  consequence  of  former  obliga- 
tion. 

By  thus  removing  himself  from  the 
society  of  the  Doria  family,  Signer 
Adimari  occasionally  faded  from  their 
thoughts.  Gianettino,  Prince  of  Melfi, 
now  admiral  of  the  republic,  and  father 
of  a  numerous  family,  w^as  too  little  on 
shore  to  spare  much  time  for  the  culti- 
vation of  particular  friendships  ;  and  as 
Signor  Adimari  mixed  no  longer  in  the 
pubhc  business  of  the  city,  he  met  him 
too  rarely  for  the  renewal  of  a  right 
understandino;. 

For  some  time  previous,  and  subse- 
quent to  the  death  of  his  presener,  the 
admiral  had  been  at  sea  ;  whence  he  re- 
turned not  till  Cesario  was  set  forth  on 
his  unfortunate  voyage  to  Syria. 

Since  then,  the  prince  had  made  many 
affectionate  enquiries  after  the  son  of  his 
old  friend  j  and  those  being  reported  to 
E  6 


84  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

Cesario  by  the  Syndic,  induced  him  to 
Tesolve  on  making  the  sacrifice  of  this 
treasured  trophy  to  Gianettino. 

With  a  swelling  heart  and  an  unsteady 
hand,  Cesario  sat  down  to  address  him  as 
follows  :  — 

"   TO    THE    PRINCE    OF    MELFI. 

"  Your  Highness  must  have  heard  oi 
my  father's  death,  and  of  the  hard  decree 
which  occasioned  it :  I  will  not  enlarge 
upon  the  subject  of  my  greatest  grief  j 
it  is  enough  that  I  am  stripped  of  every 
thing  except  honour  and  self-respect. 

<*  My  father  left  many  debts  behind  him, 
incurred  by  the  suit  at  law,  and  by  heavy 
losses  at  sea:  I  have  done  all  in  my 
power  to  cancel  these  debts ;  but  my 
means  fail  j  and  I  am  reduced  to  the 
necessity  of  selling  the  only  valuable  1 
possess,  to  get  rid  of  a  pecuniary  obliga- 
tion which  is  peculiarly  intolerable  to 
me,  having  been  forced  on  me  by  one  of 
the  Cigali. 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHX.  85 

"  The  valuable  I  allude  to  is  thediamond 
which  was  given  to  my  father  in  the  year 
1541,  on  the  night  of  the  l6th,  I  would 
not  have  it  pass  into  common  hands  ;  I 
would  not  sell  it  to  save  my  life  ;  but  the 
present  necessity  is  urgent,  and  I  offer  it 
to  the  nephew  of  the  great  Doria  for  just 
so  many  ducats  as  will  release  me  from 
the  bondage  of  debt ;  after  that  my  way 
is  clear, — a  life,  or  a  death  of  glory. 

"  Cesario  Adimari." 

Whoever  has  trod  but  a  third  of  life's 
briary  path,  and  has  not  looked  on  the 
cares  and  calamiti-es  which  obstructed 
his  way  as  merely  accidents,  must  often 
have  been  led  to  remark,  that  during  this 
trying  pilgrimage  we  are  generally  as- 
sailed in  our  most  vulnerable  part :  the 
thorns  pierce  where  our  flesh  is  ten- 
derest ;  the  sorrow  strikes  where  our  sen- 
sibility is  most  acute.  Mliatever  be  the 
passion  which  predominates  over  every 
other,    and  makes  our  hopes  and  fears 


86  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

and  efforts  all  tend  towards  its  gratifica- 
tion, it  is  from  that  quarter  the  severest 
disappointments  await  us. 

Thus  Cesario's  cherished  sin  was  pride ; 
and  successive  humiliations  were  ordained 
to  level  that  inordinate  pride  with  the 
dust.  Sometimes  it  was  to  be  mortified 
by  indignities  ;  sometimes  it  was  to  be 
vanquished  by  kindness  ;  but  till  the  dis- 
cipline of  events  should  finally  subdue  it, 
never  was  that  intention  of  Providence 
undiscernible  by  a  reflecting  mind. 

Cesario  remained  in  a  state  of  tumultu- 
ous agitation  from  the  time  of  dispatching 
his  letter  till  the  return  of  his  messenger : 
now  he  approved,  and  now  he  condemned 
the  step  he  had  taken ;  alternately  thought 
himself  too  humble,  or  too  lofty ;  and 
finally  groaned  over  the  days  of  thought- 
less boyhood,  when  he  knew  money  only 
as  a  medium  of  bounty  and  pleasure. 

His  father's  image  came  with  bitterer 
anguish  to  his  memory,  because  that 
sacred  image  was  connected,    not  only 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  87 

with  his  years  of  enjoyment,  but  with 
those  of  independence. 

The  answering  billet  from  Prince 
Doria  found  him  thus  agitated,  and  still 
alone ;  he  read  its  contents  so  rapidly, 
that  he  might  be  said  to  have  taken  them 
in  at  a  single  glance :  — 

LETTER. 

"  You  have  laid  me  under  as  great  an 
obligation,  signor,  as  that  which  I  received 
from  your  noble  father  twenty-three  years 
ago :  I  would  not,  for  half  my  illustrious 
uncle's  fame,  have  had  the  ring  you 
write  of  pass  into  any  other  families 
than  those  of  Doria  and  Adimari.  As  I 
see  what  spirit  you  are  of,  (though  I 
could  wish  its  edge  less  keen,)  I  will  not 
offend  it  by  arguments  which  may  here- 
after find  a  fitter  season ;  allow  me  at 
present  to  pray  only,  that  you  will  esti- 
mate the  jewel  at  whatever  value  you 
please,  and  suffer  me  to  consider  it  as  a 


88  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

mere  deposit  for  you,  or  your  heirs,  to 
claim  at  some  future  day. 

*<  My  treasurer,  by  whom  I  send  this 
letter,  will  take  charge  of  the  ring,  and 
give  you  an  order  upon  the  bank  of 
St.  George  for  whatever  sum  you  may 
choose  to  receive. 

"  That  affair  settled,  I  shall  claim  the 
privilege  of  your  late  father's  grateful 
friend,  and  hope  in  that  character  to  be 
allowed  the  gratification  of  forwarding 
you  in  the  military  life  it  seems  you  are 
on  the  point  of  embracing. 

(Signed,)  Gianettino  Doria, 

Prince  of  Melfi.'' 

Cesario  read  this  letter  several  times, 
as  if  he  could  not  sufficiently  take  in  all 
its  generous  meaning  ;  but  it  soothed  a 
proud  heart,  rankling  with  former  wounds, 
and  it  threw  over  his  dark  fortunes  the 
first  beam  of  light  which  had  brightened 
them  for  many  months. 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  89 

Yet  when  he  summoned  the  Prince's 
treasurer,  after  long  delay,  it  was  with 
difficulty  he  preserved  that  command 
over  himself  which  is  so  necessary  for 
dignity. 

A  countenance  all  movement  and  ex- 
pression ;  speaking  eyes,  which  involun- 
tarily sought  the  looks  of  those  he  con- 
versed wdth ;  and  a  cheek  that  alter- 
nately took  the  hue  of  all  his  emotions, 
were  not  features  to  be  trusted  when 
propriety  demanded  an  appearance  of 
tranquillity.  He  named  hastily  a  sum 
just  adequate  for  his  honourable  pur- 
poses ;  and  consigning  the  ring  to  the 
treasurer,  with  a  short  billet  for  the 
Prince,  took  the  order  on  the  bank,  and 
dismissed  his  visitant, 


(     90     ) 


CHAPTER    VI. 

It  was  then  that  Cesario*s  freed  heart 
sprang  back  with  the  violence  of  a  bow 
long  bent ;  the  passions  of  suffering 
pride,  of  self-pity,  of  struggling  inclina- 
tion and  of  prejudice,  of  gratitude  and 
reviving  hope,  mingled  their  torrents 
down  his  cheeks  ;  and  in  that  solitary 
hour,  all  the  pleasures,  the  pains,  the 
hardships  and  the  enjoyments,  the  pos- 
sessions and  the  privations  of  his  former 
life,  were  crowded  by  memory. 

To  the  natives  of  colder  regions,  these 
sudden  abandonments  to  every  passion 
of  the  instant,  may  appear  unmanly ;  but 
nature  varies  human  character  as  infi- 
nitely as  she  does  the  modes  of  animal 
and  vegetable  existence  ;  and  amongst 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN'.  Ql 

our  southern  neighbours,  every  feeling 
assumes  such  a  character  of  \ivacity,  that 
it  is  no  more  susceptible  of  concealment 
than  the  lineaments  of  the  face  are  ca- 
pable of  alteration.  These  franker  people 
attach  no  shame  to  the  display  of  a  passion 
which  is  not  in  itself,  or  by  its  direction, 
criminal ;  they  are  ignorant  of  characters 
like  that  of  the  English,  whose  heart's 
workings  are  kept  from  sight  with  as 
much  jealousy  as  a  Turkish  husband 
guards  his  Haram ;  where  the  profoundest 
sensibilities  are  habitually  repressed,  and 
a  surface  of  ice  spread  over  a  soil  of  fire. 
In  addition  to  this  character  of  coun- 
try, Cesario  was  further  privileged  by 
the  manner  of  the  age  he  lived  in ;  it 
was  an  age  of  stormy  revolution,  perils 
and  change  knocked  at  the  gates  of  all 
the  Italian  states ;  and  in  a  country 
where  every  thing  increased  the  spirit  of 
party,  and  each  individual  attached  him- 
self to  a  favourite  leader  or  kinsman,  the 


92  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

vicissitudes,  even  of  the  humblest  station, 
were  singularly  striking. 

Thus,  strong  passions  were  kept  in 
constant  action  ;  aversions  and  attach- 
ments were  strengthened  by  injuries  and 
obligations  of  more  than  ordinary  pro- 
portions y  and  the  human  soul,  disdaining 
mere  pleasures  for  the  game  of  life,  de- 
manded the  agitation  of  powerful  affec- 
tions and  the  stake  of  happiness. 

Thus,  the  times  of  which  we  speak 
were  as  fruitful  in  heroic  actions  as  in 
great  crimes  ;  and  if  they  chronicled  the 
horrid  act  of  one  brother  tearing  out  the 
eyes  of  another,  they  opposed  to  it  the 
beautiful  instance  of  a  son  expiring  of 
grief  at  sight  of  his  father's  tomb. 

Cesario  Adimari  had  all  that  vigour  of 
passion  which  makes  character  either 
formidable  or  admirable,  as  that  passion 
is  used ;  and  he  was  now  at  that  mo- 
mentous period  of  life  when  the  character 
receives  its  final  direction  towards  good 
or  evil :  that  even  period  between  youth 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  93 

and  manhood,  in  which  the  soul  takes  a 
steady  sur\^ey  of  its  owti  prospects  and 
powers,  and  strikes  at  once  into  the  dark 
road  of  selfishness,  or  the  bright  track  of 
heroism. 

On  the  intimacies  he  should  now  cul- 
tivate, and  the  habits  he  should  now 
form,  much  of  his  future  fate  must  de- 
pend. He  felt  this :  and  while  he  re- 
joiced to  re-enter  the  noble  circle  of  the 
Doria  family,  he  almost  grieved  to  think 
that  Giovanni  Cigala,  whose  gentleness 
attracted,  and  whose  goodness  would  have 
attached  him,  was  the  only  living  being 
whom  it  would  be  impious  for  him  to 
cherish  in  friendship. 

Firmly  persuaded  that  the  more  diffi- 
cult it  was  for  him  to  shun  and  to  abhor 
this  amiable  enemy,  the  greater  was  the 
sacrifice  to  filial  duty,  he  lost  no  time  in 
ridding  himself  of  unsought  obligation. 
P'or  this  purpose  he  sought  Giovanni  at 
his  house  in  the  Strada  Lomellino. 
He  was  gone  into  the  country. 


94  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

*' To  Campo  Marone  or  to  Nervi?*' 
"  To  Nervi."  Even  there  Cesario  had 
the  resolution  to  seek  him. 

Giovanni  was  walking  up  and  down  a 
winter-walk,  open  to  the  sun  and  the 
prospects  of  the  south,  when  he  was  told 
that  young  Signor  Adimari  waited  him 
in  the  house.  *'  Did  I  hear  you  rightly?" 
asked  Giovanni,  astonished.  The  servant 
repeated  his  information :  then,  quickly 
guessing  the  business  of  his  haughty 
countryman,  Giovanni  hastened  to  find 
him. 

Ten  minutes'  solitude  in  a  room  where 
the  happiest  part  of  his  life  had  been 
chiefly  spent,  assisted  Cesario  to  smother 
such  of  his  peculiar  feelings  towards  the 
generosity  of  Giovanni,  as  he  now  doubly 
deemed  it  his  duty  not  to  show ;  for  these 
ten  minutes  of  racking  remembrance 
made  a  heavy  addition  to  the  resentment 
he  bore  the  race  of  Cigala. 

His  eye  and  his  step  had  more  than 
their  usual  haughtiness  when  he  ad- 
15 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  93 

vanced  to  meet  Giovanni :  —  "  You  guess 
my  business,  Signor  Cigala,"  said  Ce- 
sario ;  and  he  emphasized  that  name,  as 
if  he  meant  to  fortify  his  resolution  by 
its  sound. 

"  Any  business  is  welcome  which  gives 
me  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  you,"  re- 
plied Giovanni,  purposely  evading  the 
question. 

Cesario  fixed  his  eyes  on  him  —  fixed 
them  somewhat  severely  :— ''  I  must  not 
expect  you,  signor,  to  confess,  unques- 
tioned, a  transaction  which  you  have 
taken  such  pains  to  conceal  -,  but  I  do 
expect  from  you  a  direct  answer  to  this 
question  :  —  Is  it  to  you  I  am  indebted  for 
the  payment  of  - — •■ —  ?"  and  he  named 
the  debt. 

Giovanni  did  not  speak  :  only  a  deeper 
red  coloured  his  cheek.  That  gene- 
rous glow,  that  dignified  silence,  smote 
Cesario  ;  and  rapidly  changing,  not 
merely  in  voice,  but  in  look,  he  added, 
*'  I  thank  you  for  your  amiable  intentions. 


96  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

sigiior :  it  is  all  I  can  ever  bring  myself 
to  thank  a  Cigala  for.  Your  silence  wants 
no  interpreter  :  again  I  thank  you."  He 
laid  a  heavy  purse  upon  the  table  as  he 
spoke,  and  took  up  his  hat. 

"  Unkind !"  exclaimed  Giovanni,  with 
unusual  vehemence. 

"  Ungrateful !  perhaps  you  mean  ?" 
said  Cesario,  darting  on  him  an  eye  of 
fire.  ''  But  when  favours  are  thus  forced 
on  us,  by  hands  we  abhor,  what  have  we 
to  do  with  gratitude  ?  Be  this  the  last 
time  that  my  feelings  are  thus  outraged : 
—  Signor,  it  must  be  the  last." 

**  I  have  mistaken  your  character," 
said  Giovanni,  drawing  back  with  an  air 
of  chagrin  and  self-respect.  "  I  fancied 
it  accessible  to  all  kindly  emotions  :  but 

it  must  have  been no!  it  could  not 

have  been  pride  that  looked  so  noble  to 
me  under  the  semblance  of  filial  piety  !" 

The  just  indignation  with  which  this 
speech  began,  and  the  sudden  return  to 
generous  inference  with  which  it  ended, 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOUy.  97 

made  Cesario  blush  :  "  What  is  it  you 
would  wring  from  me  ?**  he  asked,  in  a 
relenting  tone. 

"  Some  show  of  that  common  good- 
will with  which  man  looks  on  man,"  re- 
plied Giovanni.  "  I  could  ill  support 
this  frightful  outlawry  from  any  one  of 
my  fellow-creatures,  much  less  from 
you." 

**  And  why  less  from  me  than  from 
another?"  asked  Cesario,  turning  away 
his  eyes. 

"  Do  not  these  walls  answer  you  ?" 
said  Giovanni,  in  a  low  voice. 

*<  Yes,  they  do  answer  me!"  exclaimed 
the  kindling  Cesario.  **  They  speak  to 
me  with  a  hundred  tongue^  !  —  that  spot, 
whereon  my  father  used  to  stand  —  those 
trees,  which  I  see  from  this  window,  and 
which  his  hand  planted  —  yonder  dismal 
pile,  where  his  sacred  ashes  rest  without  a 

monument, — all  speak,  and  bid  me " 

Cesario  stopped  suddenly,  struck  with  a 
recollection  of  the  promise  he  bad  sought 

VOl^.  I.  F 


dS  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

from  Giovanni  at  their  meeting  in  the 
chapel.  Vanquished  by  that  recollection, 
he  sunk  upon  a  seat,  burying  his  face  in 
his  hands. 

Giovanni  guessed  his  thoughts,  but 
forbore  to  give  his  own,  utterance. 

After  a  long  silence,  Cesario  rose. 
<«  Blame  our  fate.  Cigala,"  he  said,  with 
penetrating  puthos,  "  it  is  that  which 
has  made  us  enemies.  I  should  have 
been  your  friend,  your  grateful  friend, 
had  you  been  the  son  of  another  man ; 
but  as  it  is,  my  father's  shade  would  rise 
and  curse  me,  were  I  to  trust  myself 
longer  within  the  powerful  influence  of 
your  character." 

Again  Cesaj-io  escaped  from  the  eager 
grasp  of  Giovanni's  hand,  just  as  he  had 
again  excited  the  hope  of  future  amity ; 
and  again  Giovanni  saw  his  kind  exer- 
tions baffled,  his  benevolence  spurned; 
and  was  left  to  contemplate  all  that  he 
possessed  in  the  luxuriant  scene  around 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  99 

him,  only  as  the  abundant  luel  of  a  never- 
ceasing  remorse. 

Cesario's  next  duty  was  to  visit  the 
Palazzo  Doria,  and  acknowledge  the 
friendship  of  its  princely  master :  but 
agitated  by  the  past  scene,  and  unwilling 
to  present  himself  in  such  a  tremor  of 
spirit,  instead  of  proceeding  through  the 
city,  he  turned  aside  towards  that  quar- 
ter where  the  Albergo  now  stands  ;  seek- 
ing to  tranquillise  himself  among  the 
solitary  groves  which  then  occupied  the 
present  site  of  that  building. 

His  retirement  was,  however,  soon  in- 
vaded. Scarcely  had  he  attained  tlie 
level  of  the  hill,  when  he  heard  the 
tinkling  of  falcons'  bells,  mingled  with 
the  agreeable  tumult  of  animated  con- 
versation and  the  prancing  of  steeds : 
the  next  moment  he  espied  a  party  re- 
turning from  hawking, 

Cavaliers  and  ladies,  falconers  and 
pages,  were  mixed  together  in  pleasing 
confusion.     The  gay  colours  of  their  dif- 

F    2 


100  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHK. 

ferent  habits,  the  feathers  on  die  heads 
of  the  ladies'  palfreys,  and  the  fanciful 
hoods  of  the  birds,  made  an  amusing 
picture ;  and  Cesario,  in  another  mood, 
might  have  paused  to  look  at  it.  He 
would  now  have  struck  into  a  side  path, 
had  not  his  attention  been  momentarily 
caught  by  an  object,  singular  at  that 
period  —  a  little  open  car  drawn  by  four 
Neapolitan  horses. 

Seen  from  a  short  distance,  these  ele- 
gant animals  appeared  hardly  larger  than 
greyhounds  :  they  wore  silver  collars, 
through  which  passed  reins  of  azure  silk  ; 
and  were  guided  by  a  young  creature, 
whose  slight  form  happily  harmonised 
with  the  fantastic  character  of  her  car- 
riage. 

She  was  standing,  less  from  skill  than 
from  exuberant  spirits  :  as  she  passed, 
the  wind,  ruffling  her  light  garments,  be- 
trayed the  ancle  of  an  Atalanta,  and 
kindled  the  colours  of  Aurora  upon  her 
cheek.     Half-laughing,  half-fearful,  she 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN'.  101 

held  the  reins,  contending  again ^  the 
rough  blast  and  the  spirited  action  of  her 
horses. 

In  the  act  of  passing  Cesario,  the  wind 
blew  off  her  thin  scarf;  he  caught  it ; 
returned  it  to  her,  bow^d,  received  a 
gracious  glance  from  a  pair  of  bright 
blue  eyes,  and  went  on. 

A  second  afterwards,  he  turned  round 
to  observe  whether  so  careless  and  skill- 
less  a  driver  proceeded  safely.  Her 
horses  were  still  checked,  and  she  was 
standing  looking  back  after  him  :  he 
lifted  his  hat  again,  but  he  staid  not; 
his  head  and  heart  were  full  of  other 
things ;  and  leaving  the  sprightly  caval- 
cade to  their  mirth,  and  the  lady  to  her 
meditations,  he  proceeded  on  his  cir- 
cuitous way  to  the  Palazzo  Doria. 

None  but  emotions  of  the  most  plea- 
surable sort  awaited  him  there. 

The   prince   received   him  cordially ; 
entered  with  interest  into  his  concerns, 
and  frankly  discussed  the  subject  upon 
F   3 


lOS  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

which  the  elder  Adimari  had  withdrawn 
from  his  society. 

From  this  discussion,  it  was  manifest 
to  Cesario,  that  his  father  had  greatly 
overrated  the  prince's  influence.  From 
amiable  unwillingness  to  dwell  upon 
what  pained  him  in  human  character,  and 
having  abstained  from  investigating  the 
affair,  lest  what  was  then  only  suspicion, 
should  be  made  certainty,  Signor  Adimari 
had  lost  the  opportunity  of  discovering 
his  own  error. 

It  was  evident,  that  Gianettino's  in- 
terest had  been  exerted  to  the  utmost; 
and  that  he  in  his  turn,  hurt  at  **  having 
Jiis  good,  evil  thought  of,'-  had  receded 
like  his  friend. 

This  explanation  not  only  convinced 
Cesario  of  the  Doria's  sincerity,  but  fur- 
ther unveiled  to  him  the  indefatigable 
intrigues  of  the  elder  Cigala :  he  was 
therefore  less  disposed  than  ever  to  enter 
into  a  league  of  amity  with  his  son  j  and 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  lOS 

less  tenacious  than  heretofore,  in  accept- 
ing the  friendship  of  Doria. 

Frankness  was  natural  to  Cesario : 
there  were  now  no  resentments,  nor  pride 
to  bar  its  way:  he  became  easy  and  com- 
municative ;  first  giving  Doria  a  sum- 
mary  of  his  past  history ;  then  explaining 
to  him  his  views  and  wishes  for  the 
future. 

With  far  more  of  the  artless  sailor  in 
him,  than  of  the  discerning  statesman. 
Prince  Doria  did  not  penetrate  the  re- 
cesses of  Cesario's  character ;  he  saw  him 
only  such  as  he  appeared  at  that  moment  5 
avowedly  jealous  of  obligation,  and  bent 
upon  laying  the  first  stone  of  his  own 
fortunes. 

Indeed  Cesario  deprecated  any  further 
favour  from  this  distinguished  friend,  than 
that  of  placing  him  in  his  ship,  and  ad- 
vancing him  in  proportion  to  his  deserts. 
Subsistence  and  honour  were  all  he  co- 
veted ;  he  therefore  sought  nothing  be- 
F  4 


104  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

yond  the  admiral's  protection  from  ne- 
glect or  envy. 

When  Cesario  sincerely  protested,  that 
common  pleasures  were  indifferent  to  him  j 
and  that  he  disdained  the  mere  trappings 
of  wealth,  however  glittering,  Doria 
smiled  at  such  philosophic  austerity  in  a 
man  of  twenty-four,  while  he  praised  his 
spirit  for  spurning  favours  from  theCigali. 

A  closer  observer  would  have  discovered 
in  the  vehement  eloquence  of  Cesario, 
while  describing  his  griefs,  his  resentments, 
and  his  scorn  of  life's  minor  enjoyments, 
that  dangerous  excess  of  sensibility  which 
sooner  or  later  must  find  its  object ;  and 
which  was  even  now  vibrating  between  a 
yearning  towards  Giovanni  Cigala,  and 
that  pride  which  bid  him  shun,  and  that 
erroneous  piety  which  bid  him  hate  the 
man  whose  father  had  beggared  his. 

Cesario  would  not  have  been  displeased, 
had  Prince  Doria  combatted  his  resolu- 
tion of  avoiding  Giovanni :  but  as  the 
prince  did  not  do  so,  he  concluded  that 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  105 

the  resolution  was  a  right  one  ;  and  that 
if  he  should  ever  swerve  from  it,  the 
weakness  would  digrace  him.  In  fact, 
the  Genoese  hero,  hurried  away  by  Ce-. 
sario's  impetuous  oratory,  mistook  pas- 
sion's torrent  for  the  force  of  truth  ; 
simply  because  it  swept  his  judgment 
along  with  it.  He  saw  clearly,  that  Ce- 
sario  would  not  accept  the  least  assist- 
ance from  Giovanni  Cigala  ;  therefore,  to 
urge  them  into  intimacy,  would  be  doing 
needless  violence  to  the  former's  filial 
principles. 

The  prince  knew  very  little  of  the  per- 
son in  question :  for  since  Giovanni's 
•return  from  Malta,  Doria  was  divided 
between  public  duties  and  the  anxieties 
of  a  large  family  ;  some  of  whom  vexed 
his  heart,  and  embarrassed  his  finances. 

The  prince  w^as  consequently  unable 
to  estimate  the  moral  advantage  which 
his  young  friend  might  reap  from  such  an 
intimacy;  as  little  did  he  suspect  that 
Cesario's  inclination  was  at  war  with  his 
F  5 


106         THE   KNIGHT    OF    ST.  JOHN. 

principles,  (at  least  with  those  powerful 
passions  which  he  mistook  for  principles;) 
and  that,  almost  unconsciously,  he  waited 
only  the  sanction  of  another,  to  break 
the  bonds  of  his  ardent  nature,  and  let  it 
spring  forth  to  meet  that  of  Giovanni 
with  noble  rivalry  of  confidence. 

Unable  to  fathom  the  depths  of  that 
profound  sensibility,  of  which  he  saw  but 
the  agitated  surface,  Doria  believed  there 
would  be  neither  utility  nor  good  man- 
ners in  attempting  to  argue  Cesario  out 
of  resolutions,  which,  however  over- 
strained, were  honourable,  and  he  con- 
cluded agreeable  to  his  feelings:  he 
therefore  forebore  to  discuss  the  subject. 

Having  settled  the  mode  and  the  pe- 
riod, in  which  Cesario's  services  would 
be  required,  Doria  invited  him  to  join  his 
domestic  circle;  where,  in  a  numerous 
family  consisting  of  young  men  and  wo- 
men, all  unbroken  in  health,  hopes,  and 
hilarity,  Cesario's  wintry  humour  warmed 
into  a  social  glow. 


(   w  ) 


CHAPTER  VII. 

From  this  auspicious  day,  his  fortune 
appeared  to  return  :  the  Palazzo  Doria 
was  ever  open  to  him ;  and  though  its 
master  had  not  much  time  to  bestow  on 
the  concerns  of  any  one  unconnected  with 
his  own  family,  Cesario  never  found  him 
cold  to  his  communication,  nor  luke- 
warm in  his  exertions. 

An  expedition  was  fitting  out  in  the 
ports  of  Genoa,  of  which  Doria  was  to 
take  the  command ;  and  having  appointed 
Cesario  to  his  own  ship,  he  exhorted  him 
to  employ  the  intermediate  time  in  study- 
ing the  principles  of  a  profession,  which 
required  science  united  with  valour  in  its 
votaries. 

F  6 


108  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

At  that  age  when  the  spirit  of  adven- 
ture  begins  to  dawn  in  the  youthful 
mind,  Cesario,  in  common  with  other 
boys,  delighted  in  reading  voyages,  and 
listening  to  his  father's  narratives  of  na- 
val exploits :  since  then,  his  own  expe- 
rience had  given  him  some  insight  into 
navigation.  Nature  had  bestowed  on 
him  the  materials  of  military  superi- 
ority ;  and  as  all  of  naval  tactics  then 
known,  was  principally  the  fruit  of  the 
great  Doria's  genius,  his  nephew's  in- 
structions were  nearly  all-sufficient. 

The  prospect  of  activity,  and  peril,  and 
distinction,  roused  the  soul  of  Cesario. 
To  the  bitterness  of  grief,  with  which 
he  had  mourned  the  loss  of  his  father, 
succeeded  the  animating  belief  that  his 
sacred  shade  witnessed  his  present  ex- 
ertions, and  would  brighten  in  his  fu- 
ture fame.  He  had  shaken  off  the  load 
of  debt ;  he  was  free  from  any  galling 
obligation,  and  though  now  but  a  child 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  109 

of  fortune,  he  had  conquered  for  himself 
respect  from  all  with  whom  he  mingled. 

This  change  of  circumstances,  by  re- 
storing to  him  the  conscious  dignity  of 
independence,  completely  changed  his 
appearance.  It  was  no  longer  necessary 
for  him  to  flash  a  threatening  spirit  in 
the  eyes  of  the  world,  and  to  show,  by 
a  frowning  brow,  that  immediate  venge- 
ance would  follow  insult.  He  was 
still  noble  ;  he  was  again  free  (for  debt 
is  slavery) ;  and,  with  that  conscious- 
ness, he  became  kindly,  indulgent,  and 
amiable. 

Like  all  other  expeditions,  that  of  the 
republic  was  delayed  from  week  to  week : 
its  object  was  co-operation  with  the 
troops  and  fleet  of  Spain,  which  were 
then  slowly  collecting  for  the  purpose  of 
regaining  the  rock  and  fortress  ofelpenoji 
de  Velez, 

This  fortress,  situated  close  to  the 
African  coast,  and  once  in  the  possession 
of  a  Christian  power,   at  that   time    ef- 


110  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN- 

factually  bridled  the  insolence  of  the 
corsairs  j  but  it  was  now  in  the  hands  of 
the  Moors,  and  every  Christian  state  be-^ 
came  interested  in  its  reduction. 

An  expedition  against  this  place  had 
the  best  chance  of  success,  if  undertaken 
when  the  prospect  of  intercepting  the 
galleons  in  their  return  from  the  new 
world  should  have  carried  out  the  ene- 
my's cruizers.  It  was  therefore  agreed, 
that,  immediately  on  this  event,  the 
Spanish  commanders  should  issue  forth 
for  Penon  de  Velez,  while  Prince  Doria 
with  the  Genoese  galleys  should  follow, 
and  destroy  the  pirates,  or  at  least 
render  their  return  to  succour  the  fort- 
ress doubtful,  if  not  impossible. 

Upon  tidings  of  the  India  ships,  and 
the  appearance  of  the  pirates,  depended 
the  departure  of  the  fleet :  Cesario  was 
consequently  forced  to  wait  in  Genoa, 
till  his  burning  desire  of  quitting  it  was 
nearly  destroyed  by  new  hopes  and  new 
inclinations. 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  Ill 

Marco  Doria,  one  of  his  noble  friend's 
younger  sons,  had  lately  returned  from 
travelling  in  foreign  countries  5  and  be- 
ing of  an  amusing,  kindly  character,  had 
first  pleased,  and  then  almost  attached 
Cesario. 

Tliere  was  a  sort  of  good-humoured 
caprice  about  Marco,  which  served  to 
give  his  society  that  piquancy,  without 
which  common  pleasures  had  no  relish 
for  Cesario ;  and,  as  that  caprice  was 
never  directed  upon  him,  this  liking  was 
the  more  flattering. 

In  fact,  Marco's  caprices  were  rather 
those  of  humour  than  of  heart;  and 
were  oftener  affected  than  real.  At  first 
they  had  been  purely  natural ;  but  now, 
from  indulgence,  and  from  seeing  their 
effect  in  procuring  him  the  privileges  of 
a  character,  he  rather  fostered  than 
sought  to  weed  them  out. 

By  turns  Cesario  smiled  at,  and  re- 
proved, and  smiled  again  on  the  fantastic 
moods  which  made  Marco,  in  the  course 


112  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

of  a  single  day,  alternately  a  cynic,  a 
sybarite,  a  devotee,  and  a  hero.  His 
brave  father,  often  heart-wrung  by  the 
shameful  irregularities  of  an  elder  son, 
and  the  profuse  expenditure  of  another, 
had  no  anger  to  waste  upon  venial  fol- 
lies ;  so  that  if  Marco  appeared  in  the 
morning  with  the  look  and  the  dress  of 
a  philosopher,  and  at  night  with  the 
tinsel  and  talk  of  a  coxcomb,  he  simply 
shook  his  head,  muttered  "  Foolish  boy  !*' 
and  bade  Cesario  teach  him  to  act  and 
look  like  a  man. 

Dividing  his  time  between  professional 
studies  and  occasional  recreation,  Cesario 
passed  from  the  grave  abode  of  the  syn- 
dic to  the  sprightlier  Palazzo  Doria ; 
seldom  frequenting  other  houses,  there- 
fore rarely  thrown  in  the  way  of  Giovanni 
Cigala. 

The  retired  habits  and  peaceful  pur- 
suits of  the  latter  tended  to  remove 
them  from  each  other ;  but  at  times  they 
met  at  mass,  or  at  public  festivities,  or  in 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  113 

the  streets ;  and  whenever  they  did  so, 
Giovanni  carried  the  idea  of  Cesario 
back  with  him  to  his  solitary  home  ;  and 
Cesario  was  rendered  thoughtful  for  the 
remainder  of  the  day. 

Giovanni  sought  him  no  longer ;  but 
the  expression  of  countenance  with  which 
he  returned  the  passing  salute  of  Cesario, 
convinced  the  latter  that  he  must  attri- 
bute this  change  to  delicacy,  not  to  in- 
difference ;  and  that,  as  he  had  found 
friendship  and  the  means  of  honourable 
subsistence  from  other  than  the  generous 
son  of  his  father's  enemy,  he  need  ap- 
prehend no  further  intrusion  from  the 
man  who  had  sought  him  on  purely  be- 
nevolent principles. 

There  were  moments  when  Cesario 
felt  tempted  to  stop  Giovanni  as  they 
met,  and  proffer  that  acquaintance  which 
could  no  longer  receive  an  interpretation 
wounding  to  jealous  pride.  But  still 
one  feeling  interposed,  one  feeling  was 
unappeased — the   remembrance    of    his 


114  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

father,  "done  to  death"  by  the  elder 
Cigala. 

At  this  recollection  the  kindly  glow 
left  his  heart,  and  he  would  pass  quickly 
by,  with  an  averted  head.  Giovanni 
failed  not  to  remark  these  repelling  looks, 
and  was  at  length  unwillingly  convinced, 
that  he  and  Cesario  Adimari  were  indeed 
not  fated  to  knit  the  knot  of  amity.  True 
to  his  habitual  confidence  in  the  wisdom 
of  Heaven,  he  reconciled  himself  under 
the  disappointment,  and  turned  his  sym- 
pathy into  another  channel. 

The  task  is  not  hard,  when  our  ima- 
gination has  been  the  source  of  the 
baffled  affection :  Giovanni  lived  to  feel 
the  difference  between  such  an  affection, 
when  but  a  courted  inclination,  and  when 
worked  into  the  soul  by  time  and  trial — 
when  become  part  of  its  being,  and 
cruelly  torn  thence  by  ungrateful  vio- 
lence. 

Hitherto  he  had  seen  only  the  inter- 
esting and  agitating  parts  of  Cesario's 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  1 15 

character  :  chance  gave  him  an  opportu- 
nity of  observing  how  enchantingly  that 
character  was  varied,  and  how  capable  it 
was  of  diffusing  all  the  charms  of  mind 
over  social  intercourse. 

He  went  by  mere  accident  one  even- 
ing to  a  conversazione.  A  numerous 
party  was  assembled  when  he  entered  j 
it  was  broken  into  detached  sets  ;  and  in 
one  of  those  he  discovered  Cesario.  In 
the  instant  of  making  this  discovery, 
Giovanni  withdrew  himself  as  much  as 
possible  from  observation. 

He  then  remarked,  that  the  persons 
by  whom  Cesario  was  encircled  were  ex- 
actly those  most  distinguished  by  that 
eloquent  talent  de  societe  which  illumi- 
nates the  dullest  subject,  and  bestows 
nearly  absolute  power  upon  the  possessor. 
These  persons  were  evidently  absorbed 
by  the  superior  eloquence  of  Cesario. 

As  Giovanni  continued  steadily  to 
watch  his  movements,  he  conceived  not 
liow  the  same  man  could  look  so  different. 


116  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

yet  leave  no  doubt  of  his  identity.  The 
darkness  of  despair,  and  the  fierceness 
of  irritated  pride,  were  vanished  from 
that  singularly-beautiful  face ;  all  there 
was  openness,  and  hilarity,  and  bright- 
ness. Wherever  Cesario's  eyes  rested, 
they  rested  with  an  expression  at  once 
sweet,  inviting,  and  kindly :  he  smiled 
frequently;  and  he  smiled  like  one 
who  neither  distrusts  nor  dreads  any  of 
the  persons  around  him ;  like  one  who 
sees  that  he  is  admired,  and  listened  to 
with  pleasure,  and  whom  that  convic- 
tion only  renders  more  inclined  to  like 
and  admire  in  return. 

The  animation  of  his  gestures,  joined 
to  the  interesting  variety  of  his  counte- 
nance, but,  above  all,  the  deep  atten- 
tion of  those  about  him,  left  Giovanni 
without  a  doubt  that  he  was  detailing 
some  remarkable  adventure,  or  enforcing 
some  favourite  opinion.  What  magic 
must  there  be  in  his  eloquence,  thus  to 
rivet  so   many  eyes  and  thoughts   upon 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  117 

him  alone  ;  thus  to  charm  even  Envy  it- 
self into  admiration !  How  did  Gio- 
vanni wish  that  he,  too,  might  have  be- 
come a  listener! — but,  fearful  of  disturb- 
ing that  happy  flow  of  soul,  and  reluct- 
ant to  overshadow  that  brilliant  sunshine, 
he  kept  aloof  for  some  time,  and  at  last 
quitted  the  assembly. 

If  Giovanni  afterwards  recalled  the 
scene  of  this  evening,  and  thought  on  it 
with  regret,  that  he  must  never  hope  to 
enjoy  the  intimacy,  and  share  in  the  feel- 
ings of  one  so  liberally  endowed  by  na- 
ture, he  consoled  himself  by  believing 
that  Cesario  had,  at  least,  regained  his 
original  capacity  of  happiness,  and  was 
entering  a  career  which  might  lead  to 
fortune. 

Though  Giovanni's  character  was 
deeply  tinctured  with  romance,  it  was 
not  that  blameable  romance  w'hich  de- 
taches the  mind  from  its  legitimate  ob- 
jects of  interest,  and  weds  it  to  some 
hopeless  or  useless  attachment :  he  saw 


118  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN, 

Cesario  no  longer  destitute  and  desolate ; 
he  turned,  therefore,  from  contemplating 
his  situation  to  active  duties  and  dearer 
interests.  In  a  very  short  time  he  be- 
came entirely  engrossed  by  the  wish  of 
discovering  his  sister. 

From  the  relatives  of  the  Chevalier 
de  Fronsac,  to  whom  he  wrote  with  a 
fraternal  anxiety  which  opened  their 
hearts  in  return,  he  learned,  that,  shortly 
after  her  marriage,  she  accompanied  her 
husband  to  Naples,  whither  he  was  car- 
ried by  an  unsettled  humour ;  that  they 
had  continued  there  some  time,  then 
passed  into  Sicily,  whence,  after  another 
sojourn  of  a  few  months,  they  had  em- 
barked for  Marseilles,  with  the  purpose 
of  returning  to  settle  in  France. 

But  ere  they  had  gone  a  third  of  their 
voyage,  the  Chevalier,  with  his  usual 
fickleness,  landed  at  one  of  the  Papal 
ports,  intending  to  cross  Italy  into  France. 
From  that  period  (now  more  than  two 
years),  no  tidings  had  been  heard  either 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHK.  119 

of  him,  his  wife,  or  their  domestics.  So, 
whether  they  had  re-embarked  in  some 
other  vessel,  and  perished  by  shipwreck ; 
whether  they  had  been  robbed  and  mur- 
dered by  banditti,  or  were  living,  for 
some  unaccountable  reason,  in  voluntary 
privacy,  the  family  of  De  Fronsac  knew 
not. 

The  chateau  of  the  Chevalier  was  now 
occupied  by  a  cousin,  the  legal  heir  ;  and 
his  mother  was  retired  into  a  religious 
house. 

From  this  account  it  seemed  too  pro- 
bable that  Madame  de  Fronsac  and  her 
husband  had  perished  at  sea :  for  it  was 
unlikely  that  not  one  of  their  domestics 
should  have  escaped,  if  their  fate  had 
been  to  fall  amongst  robbers  ;  still  less 
likely,  if  they  were  dwelling  in  any  other 
part  of  Europe,  that  not  one  should  quit 
them,  and  return  to  his  native  country, 

Giovanni  sometimes  feared  it  was  a 
forlorn  hope  to  seek  further ;  yet  he 
could  not  rest  satisfied,  until  he  went  to 


1^0  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

Ostia,  the  port  where  the  Sicihan  ship 
had  landed  them,  and  where  it  seemed 
just  possible  that  his  personal  enquiries 
might  elicit  some  new  light,  and  lead  to 
the  discovery  of  his  sister's  fate. 

He  had  projects  for  his  future  life, 
which  he  would  not  realise  till  this  im- 
portant point  should  be  cleared ;  at  least 
till  the  death  of  his  imprudent  sister,  and 
the  extinction  of  her  race,  should  amount 
to  certainty. 

Leaving  his  property  under  the  care  of 
a  relation,  he  therefore  quitted  Genoa, 
hopeless  of  success,  though  resolute  to 
attempt  it. 


(  121  ) 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

While  Giovanni  was  pursuing  his  jour- 
ney among  the  Maritime  Alps,  calmly 
surveying  the  more  important  path  of  life 
which  lay  before  him,  and  revolving 
whether  he  were  to  tread  it  singly,  or  en- 
circled by  domestic  ties,  Cesario  Adimari 
was  rapidly  losing  the  gloomy  retrospec- 
tion of  past  sorrows  in  the  hopes  and 
fears  of  new  attachments. 

"  I  am  going  to  the  Palazzo  Rosso," 
said  Mai'co  Doria,  one  morning  entering 
Cesario's  apartment  at  the  Syndic's  ;  *'  do 
accompany  me,  Adimari ;  I  require  some 
one  to  divide  with  me  the  toil  of  listen- 
ing to  a  little  coquette  in  the  bud  ;  for  her 
arts  are  not  full-blown  yet ;  and  I  know 
you  love  me  well  enough,  to  be  that  self- 
devoted  victim." 

VOL.  I.  '      G 


1^2  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOffiT^ 

Cesario  smiled  at  the  affected  languor 
with  which  his  friend  spoke.  He  re- 
minded him,  how  often  they  had  heard 
the  Signora  Brignoletti  spoken  of  in  terms 
of  rapture  ;  and  requested  to  know  what 
his  objections  could  be  against  one  so 
generally  admired. 

Marco  was  in  a  wrangling  mood :  he 
quarrelled  with  the  lady's  beauties  and 
accomplishments  ;  he  proved,  that  every 
one  of  her  graces  and  merits  was  neutra- 
lised by  some  opposite  quality  of  mind 
or  person. 

True,  she  was  gifted  with  the  talent 
of  chaunting  extempore  verses  ;  and  when 
she  opened  her  mouth,  "  music  dwelt 
within  that  coral  cave  ;*'  but  then  she 
was  scarcely  seventeen,  and  at  that  age 
shamefacedness  was  worth  all  the  genius 
of  a  Sappho. 

She  talked  well  upon  every  subject ; 
for  if  she  knew  nothing  of  them,  she 
nevertheless  uttered  the  most  ingenious 
fancies,  or  the  most  amusing  absurdities. 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  1^23 

without  hesitation;  yet,  after  alJ,  was  not 
a  woman's  virtue,  ignorance  ?  her  best 
grace,  silence? 

Then  her  person  —  it  was  indeed  a 
glow  of  youth  and  health  ;  but  it  was  too 
glowing :  she  reminded  a  poetical  ob- 
server of  a  peach  rather  than  a  rose ; 
and  that  was  high  treason  against  the 
delicate  character  of  female  beauty. 

She  was  said  to  have  the  very  prettiest 
feet  and  ankles  imaginable  :  but  if  beauty 
is  but  the  harmonious  adaptation  of  parts 
to  the  particular  end  for  which  they  are 
destined,  if  it  be  simply  utility,  then 
Beatrice's  pretty  feet  must  be  ugly,  be- 
cause they  were  too  small  to  support  her. 
Cesario  interrupted  this  solemn  non- 
sense with  a  sudden  burst  of  laughter : 
not  a  whit  discouraged,  Marco  went  on 
with  the  gravity  of  a  Seneca,  to  rail  at  his 
cousin's  singularly  bright  eyes  and  white 
teeth.  He  maintained  that  both  were 
detestable. 

**  They   injure   my   sight!"  he    said, 
G  2 


1^4  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

"  I  hate  all  glaring  objects ;  so  I  always 
avoid  white  teeth,  snow,  diamonds,  and 
bright  eyes.  But  come  —  since  I  must 
face  these  horrors  to-day,  by  the  saints 
you  shall  confront  them  with  me.'* 

Cesario  yielded  to  his  impelling  arm, 
as  he  concluded  this  tirade,  and  they 
went  forth  together. 

Arid  what,  in  sober  truth,  was  the 
woman  thus  described  by  the  whimsical 
mood  of  her  cousin? 

With  youth,  laughing  from  the  blue 
heaven  of  her  eyes;  a  complexion,  indeed, 
like  the  sunny  side  of  a  peach  ;  and  clus- 
tering hair,  of  ardent  brown  ;  Beatrice 
Brignoletti  was  charming  in  defiance  of 
rule.  Her  springing  steps  was  marked 
by  a  volatile  grace,  something  between 
walking  and  dancing ;  in  another  person 
it  might  have  been  mistaken  for  affect- 
ation, but  in  her,  it  was  the  natural  ex- 
pression of  that  jocund  spirit  which  looked 
forth  from  her  eyes,  her  lips,  her  cheek, 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  1Q5 

her  flying  tresses,  nay,  "  at  every  act  and 
motion  of  her  body." 

The  same  jocuml  spirit  made  her  rash 
and  fearless,  and  discourseful  even  in 
large  societies  ;  and  more  judicious  men 
than  Marco  Doria  might  have  agreed 
-with  him  in  asking  for  something  more  of 
timidity  in  an  inexperienced  girl.  But 
at  seventeen,  with  all  her  genius,  Beatrice 
was  as  much  of  a  child  in  her  love  of 
amusement,  her  eagerness  in  the  pursuit 
of  whatever  tempted  her  whim  or  her 
heart,  and  her  utter  disregard  of  what 
other  people  thought  of  her  condu<:t,  as 
when  she  used  to  cry  for  a  doll,  or 
trample  over  a  parterre  in  chase  of  a 
butterfly. 

As  amusing,  as  caressing,  as  endearing 
as  a  child,  she  was  usually  judged  with 
the  same  indulgence  ;  and  as  neither  the 
saddest  humour  could  resist  the  flash  of 
her  smile,  nor  the  coldest  heart  her 
glance  of  brief  sensibility,  there  were  not 
G  3 


1^6  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOUK, 

many  persons  courageous  enough  to  teli 
her,  nor  wise  enough  to  tell  themselves, 
that  her  exuberant  gaiety  hovered  on  the 
verge  of  freedom. 

An  heiress,  and  an  only  child,  Beatrice 
was  left  solely  to  the  guardianship  of  a 
mother,  who  had  **  thrown  herself  into 
devotion,"  as  the  French  call  it;  and 
whoy  without  power  or  perhaps  inclina- 
tion to  shut  out  the  heathenish  world 
from  the  Palazzo  Rosso,  presided  at  her 
assemblies  with  a  visage  that  would  not 
have  disgraced  Medusa. 

Although  the  Dorias  called  the  pretty 
heiress  cousin,  their  relationship  was  very 
distant ;  and  had  far  less  share  in  binding 
the  families  together,  than  their  mutual 
desire  of  a  nearer  connection. 

The  Marchesa  Brignoletti  wished  her 
daughter  to  marry  the  heir  of  the  Doria 
honours;  and  the  young  man  himself  left 
no  assiduity  untried  which  might  win  the 
heart  of  his  mistress ;  but  the  heart  is 
sometimes  very  provoking,  and  though 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  IT/ 

that  of  Beatrice  was  certainly  given  to 
« the  melting  mood,"  it  melted  not  before 
tlie  many  sighs  of  this  admirer. 

Report  whispered,  that  Cynthio  Doria 
was  refused,  because  another  Genoese,  of 
nearly  equal  rank,  was  handsomer,  and 
not  so  much  in  love,  as  to  make  love 
aukwardly:  be  that  as  it  may,  Cynthio 
was  silenced  for  ever ;  his  rumoured  rival 
thrown  aside  ;  and  the  lady's  favour  en- 
grossed by  a  young  Sardinian,  who  had 
followed  her  from  Turin,  and  seemed 
likely  to  carry  off  the  prize. 

All  this,  and  much  more  of  private 
annals  did  Marco  Doria  impart  to  his 
companion,  as  they  took  their  way  along 
the  Strada  Nuova,  to  the  Palazza  Rosso. 

It  was  one  of  those  golden  mornings 
known  only  to  Italy  ;  a  refreshing  breeze, 
blowing  off  the  sea,  tempered  the  hot 
sun  :  the  air,  the  exercise,  the  quickening 
influence  of  animated  conversation,  had 
given  to  the  fine  person  of  Cesario  its 
fiiU  lustre,  and,  as  his  friend  presented 
G  4 


12S  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN^ 

him,  he  received  one  of  Signora  Beatrice's 
brightest  eye-beams.  There  needed  not 
her  musical  shriek  of  recognition  to  in- 
form him  that  he  saw  in  her  the  pretty 
charioteer  whose  scarf  he  had  picked  up 
several  weeks  ago.  She  seemed  en- 
chanted with  the  opportunity  of  thank- 
ing him  for  his  gallantry ;  and  said  so 
much  more  upon  the  subject  than  such  a 
trifling  civility  required,  that  Cesario 
could  not  help  recalling  one  of  Marco's 
exclamations  about  her — *«  How  she  will 
talk  i"  He  smiled,  bowed,  complimented 
her  in  return  ;  then,  directing  his  atten- 
tion, as  he  believed  right,  to  the  Mar- 
chesa,  left  Beatrice  to  his  friend. 

With  that  voluble  vivacity  which  Marco 
Doria  had  exaggerated,  Beatrice  began 
to  rally  him  on  the  doleful  seriousness  of 
his  deportment;  to  contrast  him  with  the 
sprightly  Frenchmen  and  ardent  Savoy- 
ards at  the  court  of  Turin  ;  to  beg  the 
history  of  his  travels,  and  to  give  him 
that  of  her  own.     Thence  she  flew  off 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  1^9 

to  a  repetition  of  their  amicable  disputes 
and  artless  sports  in  childhood,  which  she 
coloured  so  magically  by  a  pretty  mix- 
ture of  sentiment  and  gaiety,  that  Cesa- 
rio's  attention  was  irresistibly  attracted, 
while  he  wondered  at  the  obstinately-in- 
different mood  of  his  companion. 

"  O  you  must  come  and  worship  my 
doves,"  exclaimed  Beatrice,  suddenly 
starting  up,  "  if  you  wish  to  see  just 
such  feathers  as  Cupid  is  plumed  with,  or 
perhaps  his  arrows  winged  with ;  come 
with  me  to  my  aviary." 

"I  had  rather  make  acquaintance 
with  a  sensible-looking  owl,"  reph'ed 
Marco,  forcing  a  yawn. 

*<  That  ungracious  speech,  and  that 
mirror  beside  you,  are  so  tempting  for  a 
bad  jest  1"  returned  Beatrice 5  "but  as 
/  am  no  owl-fancier,  prithee  remain  where 
you  are.  Signor  Adimari,  you  will  come 
with  me  ?" 

There  was  no  resisting  the  pretty 
plaintive  tone  of  childish  disappointment 
G  5 


130  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

with  which  this  was  said ;  Cesario  rose, 
and  approached  the  door  she  was  opening. 

**  Where  are  you  going,  Beatrice  ?'^ 
asked  her  mother,  in  a  tone  of  displea- 
sure. 

"  Into  the  air  with  the  birds,  mamma,'* 
replied  the  gay  creature,  vanishing  as 
she  spoke. 

Cesario  followed  her  out  into  an  aerial 
garden,  formed  by  an  extensive  platform, 
supported  on  a  range  of  marble  arcades  y 
it  was  diversified  by  parterres  of  the 
choicest  flowers  and  bowers  of  shrubs. 
There  the  pomegranate,  wedded  to  the 
heliotrope  and  yellow  rose,  hung  its 
blushing  garlands  through  the  openings 
of  gilded  trellices,  and  strewed  the  path 
with  varied  blossoms  :  at  the  extremity 
of  the  platform,  shaded  from  the  sun  by 
rose-acacias,  and  sprinkled  by  the  waters 
of  a  fountain  from  below,  (the  sparkling 
showers  of  which  rose  as  high  as  this 
fantastic  garden,)  stood  the  aviary. 

Beatrice  ran  to  call  out  her  doves,  and 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  131 

as  she  placed  them  alternately  in  the 
hands  of  Cesario,  descanting  on  their 
beauty,  her  own  charms  of  complexion 
and  animation  could  not  pass  unnoticed. 

From  the  beauty  of  the  birds,  their 
conversation  turned  upon  beauty  in  the 
human  species  :  Beatrice  avowed  her  ad- 
miration of  it  with  indiscreet  ardour ;  and 
having  warmly  praised  a  head  of  the 
war-angel,  by  Michael  Angelo,  at  Turin, 
as  her  idea  of  perfect  manly  beauty,  she 
met  Cesario's  eyes  while  hers  were  ad- 
miringly rivetted  on  his  figure  ;  and  for- 
getting what  it  implied,  she  uttered,  in 
the  confusion  of  that  detection,  some- 
thing about  his  strong  resemblance  to 
this  picture. 

The  words  were  no  sooner  escaped, 
than  she  blushed  like  vermilion  j  Cesario 
coloured  too ;  neither  of  them  spoke, 
till  Beatrice,  fairly  overcome  with  shame, 
flew  back  into  the  room  where  her  mother 
sat,  leaving  Cesario  to  recover  from  his 
G  6 


13^  THE  KXIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

eiiiban-as^mettt,  and  to  follow  her  at  his 
leisure. 

The  remainder  of  this  visit  was  spent 
in  more  general  conversation  ^  and  al- 
though the  lively  Beatrice  ceased  not  to 
sport  with  the  transient  humour  of  Marco 
Doria,  she  never  addressed  nor  answered 
Cesario  without  a  visible  blush  ;  perliaps 
there  was,  insensibly,  less  of  confusion 
and  more  of  delight  in  this  heightened 
colour ;  for  Beatrice  began  to  forget  that 
she  had  any  thing  to  be  ashamed  of,  and 
thought  only  of  admiring  that  sweet  im- 
periousness  of  expression,  which,  though 
softened,  was  not  subdued,  in  the  fine 
coimtenance  of  Cesario,  and  that  flexible 
grace  which  was  developed  by  every 
movement  of  his  exquisite  figure. 

The  ensuing  day  carried  Cesario  into 
the  same  society.  Signora  Brignoietti 
had  in\dted  her  cousin  and  his  friend  to 
take  chocolate  with  her  in  the  morning, 
a  celebrated  singer  being  engaged  to  give 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  133 

her  a  lesson,  in  her  way  to  the  court  of 
Piedmont. 

They  were  true  to  their  appointment, 
for  Marco  Doria  was  in  the  mood  of  gal- 
lantry, and  Cesario  loved  music  to  abso- 
lute passion. 

Her  mother  was  at  mass ;  the  Count 
Cagliari,  Beatrice's  Sardinian  adorer, 
stood  by  her  side,  leaned  over  her  chair, 
handed  her  the  music-books,  lifted  her 
nosegay  when  it  dropt,  and  retained  part 
of  it  as  he  did  so  ;  in  short,  assumed  the 
air  of  a  man  as  sure  of  his  station  in  a 
lady's  heart,  as  vain  of  the  privileges  that 
position  gave  him. 

Cesario  did  not  much  observe  then, 
though  he  often  recalled  it  afterwards, 
that  at  his  first  meaning  glance  from  her 
to  the  Count,  Beatrice  suddenly  altered 
her  manner;  she  listened  with  a  cold 
air  to  the  familiar  whisperings  of  Cag- 
liari ;  and,  removing  from  that  part  of 
the  room  in  which  he  was,  contrived  so 
to   immerse   herself  in  the  rest  of  the 


184  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

party,  that  he  could  never  again  fix  him- 
self at  her  side. 

While  her  little  circle  were  trifling 
away  the  time,  till  the  Seraphina  should 
arrive,  Beatrice  flew  up  to  Marco  Doria 
with  the  smiling  witchery  of  a  Eu- 
phrosyne,  —  "  So  !  you  are  out  of  your 
tub  to-day,"  she  said,  glancing  archly 
over  his  suit  of  azure  silk,  delicately 
wrought  with  silver ;  ^'  no  longer  Di- 
ogenes, what  art  thou,  my  entertaining 
cousin  ?" 

"  Your  slave,  fair  Beatrice! — for  I 
have  not   seen   any  thing   so   charming 

since '^  *'  Since  your  last  look  at  your 

mirror,"  was  her  arch  interruption,  and 
she  turned  her  brilliant  face  towards 
Cesario :  '*  And  you,  Signor  Adimari, 
what  humour  are  you  in  ?  or  are  you  in 
any  humour  at  all  ?  have  the  charity  to 
let  me  know  before-hand,  that  I  may  not 
nip  our  acquaintance  in  the  bud,  by 
being  either  too  grave  or  too  gay,  or  too 
wise  or  too  foolish,  or  too  awful  or  too 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  135 

familiar  for  your  taste  of  the  moment ;  I 
do  assure  you  my  humour  is  to  please  you 
both  :"  —  and  as  she  curtesied  with  in- 
imitable grace,  a  pretty  dropping  of  her 
eye-lids  gave  but  the  more  effect  to  the 
brilliant  orbs  from  which  they  were  as 
suddenly  raised. 

"  It  is  not  for  you,  Signora,  to  bend 
to  any  one's  humour,"  said  Cesario, 
gaily.     **  You  triumph  over  all.'' 

*'  Santa  Maria  !  here  comes  that  perse- 
cuting man !" 

*«  What!  Count  Cagliari  I"  repeated 
Doria.  "  I  thought  he  was  lord  of  the 
ascendant  here !" 

"  He  !  I  hate  him  !  I  never  did  more 
than  tolerate  him  ;  and  I  have  hated  him 
ever  since  yesterday." 

"  Bravo !  you  and  I  are  formed  for 
each  other  I  see,  after  all !"  cried  Marco. 
Hated  since  yesterday  !  —  why,  even  my 
weathercock  fancies  could  not  have  shift- 
ed in  less  time  ,  nor,  I  dare  say,  with  less 


136  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

Beatrice  was  too  earnestly  eluding 
Count  Cagliari,  and  too  eagerly  attend- 
ing to  Cesario,  for  a  reply  to  this  remark. 
After  having  successfully  evaded  her  ad- 
mirer, she  said  to  the  latter,  «*  Can  you 
imagine  any  thing  so  odious,  as  to  be 
persecuted  by  a  man  one  has  taken  a 
disgust  to !" 

**  Yes !  to  be  avoided  by  the  person 
we  love,"  was  Cesario's  playfully-reprov- 
ing answer. 

"  Then  you  pity  that  presumptuous 
creature  ?  You  would  be  his  advocate 
with  me  ?"  she  said,  with  a  mixture  of 
softness  and  pique. 

**  I  suspect  there  is  no  man  who  would 
consent  to  plead  any  other  cause  than  his 
own  to  the  Signora  Brignoletti,"  replied 
Cesario. 

His  answer  was  a  mere  common-place 
of  gallantry  demanded  by  the  question ; 
and  he  uttered  it  sportively  j  but  no 
sooner  was  it  said,  than  all  the  colours  of 
morning  painted   the   face   of  his   fair 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  137 

companion  ;  and  indiscreetly  exclaiming, 
**  Oh!  I  must  not  jest  with  you  ;  I  see 
you  are  dangerous,"  she  fled  away  as 
fast  as  she  had  done  the  day  before. 

"  What  a  pretty,  strange  little  crea- 
ture 1"  said  Cesario  to  himself,  somewhat 
disturbed  by  her  second  flight ;  and  he 
repeated  this  remark  more  than  once,  as 
he  accidentally  caught  her  eye  fixed  on 
him,  through  the  occasional  openings  of 
the  different  groupes  in  the  apartments. 

That  eye  receded  from  his  for  a  mo- 
ment, when  he  made  his  way  towards 
her  some  time  afterwards,  and  joined 
Marco  Doria  who  stood  by  her  ;  but  it 
was  not  long  of  recovering  its  usual  lively 
excursiveness  ;  and  it  sparkled  with  such 
extraordinary  brightness,  that  Cesario 
could  not  forbear  asking  his  friend,  in  a 
low  voice,  *«  Whether  his  near  neighbour- 
hood to  so  much  light  were  good  for  his 
eyes  ?" 

Beatrice  claimed  a  share  in  their  secret : 
it  was  immediately  granted  j  and  Marco 


138  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

Doria's  voluble  gallantry  left  nothing  to 
Cesario  but  an  expression  of  countenance, 
to  which  SignoraBrignoletti's  quick  fancy 
gave  its  own  meaning. 

"  'Twas  in  compliment  to  those  bright 
eyes  that  I  chose  this  watch et-coloured 
mantle,"  said  Marco.  **  Their  colour,  an 
earthly  dyer  may  imitate ;  but  for  their 
fire,  I  must  take  Prometheus's  journey. 
Prithee  reward  me,  sweet  Beatrice,  with 
a  smile  for  this." 

"  If  you  had  asked  for  a  sigh,  I  might 
have  wondered  at  your  effrontery,"  she 
answered,  giving  the  sweet  reward  he 
asked ;  **  but  a  smile  is  such  a  poor 
every  day  favour  —  a  mere  Algerine 
asper  —  the  smallest  coin  in  the  heart's 
treasury ;  and  thrown,  like  alms,  to  vaga- 
bonds, simply  to  get  rid  of  them!  There! 
you  may  have  a  score  at  once  j  I  can 
afford  millions." 

*'  And  is  a  sigh,  then,  the  richest  gift 
of  this  fair  treasury  of  yours?"  asked 
Cesario,  feeling,    for  the  first  time.,  an 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  139 

emotion  of  tenderness  in  her  company ; 
*'  1  have  seen  a  blush  that  was  worth  the 
Indies  j''  and  his  eyes  said  where,  and 
when. 

*<  By  the  Virgin,  she  gives  you  both !'' 
exclaimed  Marco,  as  Beatrice  did  indeed 
sigh  and  blush  from  very  pleasure  ;  **  but 
given  thus,  for  nothing,  they  must  be 
counterfeits  ;  don't  take  them,  Adimari  ; 
at  any  rate,  don't  attempt  imposing  them 
on  me  as  lawful  coin." 

At  that  instant  Count  Cagliari  ad- 
vanced to  take  leave,  piqued  b\^  the  Sig- 
nora's  marked  avoidance  of  him.  To 
appear  still  sure  of  her  favour,  and  yet  to 
scorn  it,  he  carelessly  snatched  her  hand, 
kissed  it  with  the  air  of  one  tired  of  play- 
ing the  lover,  and  walked  out  of  the 
room  with  a  vacant  stare  of  listlessness. 

<*  You  have  not  told  us,  my  fair  coz, 
by  what  name  to  call  this  favour !"  ob- 
served Marco  ;  **  a  kiss  of  that  white 
hand  is  doubtless  a  medal  struck  only  for 
some  happy  individual," 


140  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

**  The  die  is  destroyed  then !  ther^ 
never  will  be  another !"  replied  Beatrice, 
glowing  with  indignation  ;  she  paused, 
then  added  with  imprudent  frankness, 
**  I  see  what  the  Count  aimed  at.  He 
intended  to  make  you  and  Signor  Adi- 
mari  believe  that  he  is  a  favoured  lover, 
therefore  privileged  to  take  this  liberty ; 
but  it  is  no  such  thing :  and  I  beg  you 
both  to  come  every  evening  to  the  Pa- 
lazzo, just  to  see  how  I  will  mortify  his 
presumption." 

Both  gentlemen  bowed,  and  one  of 
them  laughed ;  it  was  certainly  not  Ce- 
sario. 

The  Seraphina  never  came  ;  so  the 
party  broke  up,  and  the  different  per- 
sonages betook  themselves  to  their  sepa- 
rate homes. 

As  Marco  Doria  sauntered  along  with 
Cesario,  he  amused  himself  with  ridi- 
culing the  caprices  and  artifices  of  women. 
He  offered  to  bet  any  sum,  that  the 
Signora  Brignoletti  was  at  this   moment 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  141 

weeping  over  the  success  of  her  own  stra- 
tagem :  for  he  considered  her  conduct  to 
Cagliari  as  mere  wanton  sport  with  his 
feelings  ;  or  else,  but  a  passing  fit  of 
irritation. 

Marco  was  so  much  used  to  timjdity  in 
some  women,/ and  finesse  in  others,  where 
their  hearts  were  concerned,  that  he  never 
dreamt  of  finding  the  real  meaning  of 
Beatrice's  conduct,  in  its  literal  interpre- 
tation :  he  therefore  fancied  her  evident 
admiration  of  his  friend  a  piece  of 
childish  acting ;  and  set  it  down  for  cer- 
tain, that  she  only  tried  to  play  him  off 
against  some  neglect  or  offence  from  her 
real  lover. 

From  respect  for  female  sincerity,  Ce- 
sario  was  not  disposed  to  admit  this ;  and 
from  regard  for  female  modesty,  he  was 
as  little  inclined  to  believe  that  the  lady 
really  felt  that  admiration  of  his  person 
which  Marco  protested  she  displayed. 
He  consequently  combatted  Marco's  ar- 


142  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

guments,  and  the  evidence  of  his  6wn 
senses  ;  called  her  looks  and  expressions 
mere  accidents  ;  and,  neither  convincing 
nor  convinced,  parted  from  his  com- 
panion. 


(     143     ) 


CHAPTER  IX. 

vV  HATEVER  was  the  nature  of  the  Signer 
Brignoletti's  reveries,  when  Cesario  was 
their  object,  it  is  certain  that  he  thought 
of  her  only  as  a  charming  child ;  and  as 
such,  saw  no  danger  in  accompanying 
Marco  Doria  to  the  house  of  her 
mother. 

It  is  true,  Beatrice  had  talents  which 
often  elevated  her  above  her  own  cha- 
racter. When  she  sang,  she  did  it  with 
the  expression  of  vivid,  unrestrained 
feeling  :  and  when  obeying  an  impulse 
(which  her  flatterers  called  inspiration), 
she  chanted  or  recited  an  extempory 
poem,  she  was  certainly  inspired  with 
something  beyond  the  common-places  of 
Fine-Ladyism.      Still,    this   was   only   a 


144  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

wild  shoot  of  genius ;  neither  nourished 
nor  improved  by  study,  nor  pruned  by 
judgment :  it  was  but  a  meteor  light, 
brighter  at  its  firSt  burst  than  it  would 
ever  appear  afterwards :  flowers  without 
root,  worn  but  as  youth's  garland,  and 
destined  to  wither  with  its  brief  day  of 
enthusiasm. 

Cesario  saw  nothing  in  this  boasted 
wonder,  beyond  the  promising  talent  of 
a  clever  girl. 

As  the  Palazzo  Rosso  was  open  every 
evening,  and  after  the  first  introduction 
no  future  invitation  being  necessary,  the 
two  young  men  went  there  every  night. 
At  the  commencement  of  these  visits, 
they  usually  stopped  but  a  few  minutes  ; 
then  they  staid  a  little  longer ;  after  that 
Cesario  grew  to  oppose  their  departure 
so  very  early ;  and,  at  last,  he  fell  into 
the  habit  of  remaining  there  alone. 

From  scarcely  noticing  the  Jittle  atten- 
tion given  by  Beatrice  to  Count  Cagliari's 
assiduities,  and  the  eagerness  with  which 
14 


THE  KNIGHT  Of  ST.  JOHN.  145 

she  received  attention  from  himself,  Ce- 
sario  insensibly  began  to  feel,  and  to 
watch  for,  these  proofs  of  peculiar  in- 
terest. He  gradually  lost  sight  of  every 
other  thing  in  the  conversations  of  the 
Marchesa,  till  his  mind,  habituating  itself 
to  one  line  of  observation,  and  one  ex- 
pectation, became  rivetted  upon  the 
object  of  its  attention  with  the  strength 
of  passion. 

It  is  humiliating  to  detect  the  weak- 
nesses of  human  nature  :  but,  perhaps, 
were  every  passion  conceived  for  a  very 
faulty  or  dissimilar  object,  traced  to  its 
source,  we  should  find  it  in  an  awakened 
vanity.  Cesario's  might  be  attributed 
to  that  subtle  cause. 

One  evening,  as  Marco  Doria  called 
on  him  as  usual,  in  his  way  to  the  Pa- 
lazzo Rosso,  he  affected  a  'fit  of  what 
he  called  'the  God,'  and  insisted  upon 
reciting  some  verses  which  he  had  just 
composed  upon  his  friend  himself. 

Marco  enacted  his  new  character  of 

VOL.  I.  H 


146  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

bard  so  well,  that  it  was  indeed  as  im- 
possible to  stop  him  in  his  tuneful  ca- 
reer, as  it  would  have  been  to  stop  the 
most  practised  of  his  supposed  brethren : 
with  "  his  eye  in  a  fine  phrenzy  rolling," 
he  volubly  delivered  the  following 

SONNET. 

Who  now,  with  voice  profaning  Nature's  hand, 
Shall  of  Ideal  Beauty  idly  boast  ? — 
Thy  form,  Cesario,  dims  the  faultless  band 
Of  sculptured  gods,  enthroned  on  Grecia's  c«ast. 
Faultless  are  they  :  but  with  exhaustless  grace 
(Beyond  or  chisel's  touch  or  fancy's  glow,) 
Thy  limbs  divine  each  charm  of  motion  show, 
Matching  the  bright  perfection  of  thy  face  !  — 
That  hp,  that  eye,  where  Love  and  Mind  contend 
For  mastery  of  power ;  that  smile  of  light ; 
Those  curls  of  jet,  and  brows  sublime,  that  bend 
Like  thunders  resting  on  some  snow-clad  height; 
O,  who  on  these  shall  gaze,  nor  rapt  exclaim, 
Here  sculpture's  idol  falls  before  a  mortal's  frame ! 

Cesario  laughed  heartily  at  what  he 
considered  bombastic  nonsense,  when 
applied  to  one  man  by  another ;  but  he 
bestowed  a  very  different  appellation  on 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  147 

it,  when  Marco  proclaimed  it  a  produc- 
tion of  Beatrice  Brignoietti's,  and  stolen 
by  him  from  her  writing-case. 

The  original  manuscript  shown  by 
Marco,  in  support  of  what  he  advanced, 
was  in  vain  presented  to  Cesario  :  the 
latter  refused  to  share  in  such  unmanly 
treason  against  the  defenceless  sex  ;  and, 
though  convinced  by  the  delicate  hand- 
writingj  and  Marco's  utter  incapacity  to 
string  a  rhyme,  that  it  was  really  the 
work  of  Beatrice,  he  persisted  in  avowing 
his  disbelief  of  its  authenticity;  and  so 
the  affair  ended. 

After  this  incident,  Cesario  was  not 
long  of  estimating  his  power  over  the 
young  heart  he  wnshed  to  reign  in.  Her 
sparkling  eyes,  and  glowing  cheeks, 
w  henever  he  drew  near,  needed  no  inter- 
preter :  those  eyes  were  never  long  absent 
from  him  :  and  one  glance  from  his, 
would  at  any  time  make  her  repulse  the 
Count  Cagliari  with  marked  rudeness ;  if 
she  danced,  if  she  sang,  k  was  only  at 
H  2 


148  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN, 

his  request ;  if  she  gathered  a  flower,  it 
was  for  him ;  if  she  took  refreshments, 
it  was  because  he  offered  it.  If  Cesario 
hawked  or  hunted,  she  lent  her  best 
falcon,  or  pressed  on  him  her  favourite 
gennet. 

That  pernicious  habit  of  indulgence 
in  which  Beatrice  had  been  educated, 
being  more  powerful  than  modesty  itself, 
she  consciously  betrayed  this  secret  in- 
clination, from  a  lurking  expectation  of 
gratification  waiting  upon  such  display. 

Hers  was  not  the  love  which  is  disco- 
vered by  its  own  attempts  at  conceal- 
ment ;  hers  was  not  the  love  which  would 
rather  have  perished  with  its  victim  in 
the  grave,  than  have  compassed  a  return 
at  the  expense  of  maidenly  dignity ;  hers 
was  not  the  love,  which,  born  of  moral 
and  mental  admiration,  can  live  through 
years  of  hopeless  attachment,  nourished 
by  contemplating  the  virtues  of  its  ob- 
ject, and  consoled  by  witnessing  his 
happiness. 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  149 

It  was  the  love  of  an  age  just  beyond 
that  wherein  a  sweetmeat  and  a  flower 
are  the  highest  enjoyment ;  an  age  in 
which  the  senses  and  the  imagination 
are  sometimes  mistaken  for  the  heart  and 
the  judgment ;  an  age,  in  short,  of  tur- 
bulent but  rarely  deep  attachments. 

If  Cesario  ever  dwelt  for  an  instant 
with  an  unpleasant  sensation  upon  her 
careless  conduct,  it  lasted  but  an  instant. 
There  were  so  many  delightful  and  flat- 
tering  reasons  to  be  urged  in  her  excuse  : 
complete  innocence,  ignorant  of  the  very 
sentiment  it  indulged  and  betrayed ; 
truth,  so  transparent  that  even  virgin 
bashfulness  could  not  veil  it  j  ioVe  so 
powerful,  or  love  so  generous,  that  either 
it  could  not  be  restrained  by  any  consi- 
derations, or  would  not,  from  a  noble 
disdain  of  unequal  fortune. 

To  these  sophistries  were  added  the 
seductions  of  self-love ;  the  wants  of  a 
heart  formed  for  strong  emotion  j  and 
H   3 


150  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

the   tumults  created   by  the   beauty  of 
luxuriant  and  playful  youth. 

Marco  Doria,  meanwhile,  rallied  both 
parties  on  their  evident  mutual  prefer- 
ence, and  with  such  dexterous  address, 
that  it  was  impossible  for  either  to  show 
their  knowledge  of  his  meaning  ;  yet,  as 
impossible  for  them  to  learn  by  it  the 
nature  and  extent  of  a  sentiment  which 
both  felt,  and  neither  veatured  to  express. 

Just  as  Marco  was  in  the  mood,  he 
treated  love  as  a  light  or  a  profound 
sentiment ;  deified  it  with  the  spirit  of  a 
hero  in  romance,  or  sneered  at  it  witb 
the  asperity  of  a  cynic.  But  in  none  of 
his  moods  was  he  wise  enough,  or  kind 
enough,  to  remind  Cesario  of  the  despe- 
rate inequality  which  existed  between 
his  fortunes  and  those  of  the  inexpe- 
rienced creature  for  w^hom  he  sighed. 

Count  Cagliari  was  formally  dismissed 
and  gone  back  to  Turin  ;  and  an  armour 
of  frowns  was   beginning  to  invest  the 


'  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN,  151 

brow  of  the  Marchesa,  when  the  Genoese 
fleet  received  orders  to  sail. 

A  swarm  of  Turkish  cruisers,  after 
sweeping  the  Adriatic  and  the  shores 
of  the  Mediterranean,  were  seen  liover- 
ing  round  the  adjacent  islands:  it  was 
therefore  expedient  to  disable  or  drive 
them  back ;  that  so  powerful  a  reinforce- 
ment might  not  come  in  aid  of  the  Bar- 
bary  fleet,  when  the  expedition  against 
Penofi  de  Velez  should  take  place. 

This  expedition  was  indeed  on  the 
point  of  issuing  from  Spain,  but  the  Ge- 
noese admiral  abandoned  his  share  in  its 
success,  only  that  he  might  render  it 
sure,  by  destroying  the  ally  of  Morocco. 

Marco  Doria,  w^ho  had  been  all  this 
time  making  up  his  mind  about  his  fu- 
ture pursuit  in  life ;  and  who  had  alter- 
nately determined  upon  the  land  and  the 
sea  service,  the  line  of  politics,  the 
church,  and  the  court  of  the  Emperor 
Charles,  was  now  thoroughly  convinced 
for  tlie  next  fortnight,  that  there  was 
H  4 


15Q  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN, 

])othing  in  this  world  worth  a  wise  matins 
trouble ;  that  honours  were  bubbles ; 
riches  toys,  pleasures  dreams;  that,  in 
short,  there  was  nothing  substantial  but 
ease  and  indifference;  and  that,  conse- 
quently, a  country  abode,  with  a  garden, 
a  few  books,  and  a  single  domestic, 
were  the  ultima  Thule  of  hiuiian  happiness. 

Marco's  valour  had  been  approved, 
more  than  once,  as  a  volunteer  upon 
sufficiently  memorable  occasions  ;  there- 
fore, without  fear  of  being  stigmatised 
with  cowardice,  he  suddenly  announced 
his  intention  of  sitting  down  for  life,  as 
a  philosophic  solitary. 

Before  Cesario  left  Genoa,  he  saw  this 
fantastic  personage  tranquilly  installed 
in  a  small  house,  that  once  belonged  to 
a  falconer,  on  the  banks  of  the  Pol- 
civejra. 

Thus,  bereft  of  his  usual  companion, 
Cesario  had  to  go  through  the  dangerous 
scene  of  announcing  his  own  departure 
to  the  Signora  Brignoletti. 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  J  OHX.  153 

It  was  in  the  gardens  of  the  Palazzo, 
where  the  Marchesa  had  given  a  moon- 
light supper  in  an  open  pavilion. 

Part  of  the  company  were  enjoying 
the  beautiful  night  among  groves  of 
breathing  rose  and  orange  trees ;  some 
stood  listening  to  the  tinkling  sound  of 
fountains,  or  to  strains  of  music  issuing 
from  the  house.  The  Marchesa  sat  with 
her  daughter  on  the  alabaster  steps  of 
the  pavilion,  seemingly  attentive  to  the 
progress  of  a  wreath  of  flowers  which 
Beatrice  was  sportively  twisting  for  her 
own  hair,  but  in  reality  watcliing  the 
steps  of  Cesario,  and  keeping  him  off  by 
her  threatening  frown. 

Cesario  was  alternately  sauntering  and 
leaning  under  the  shade  of  an  acacia, 
with  two  or  three  persons,  of  whose  con 
versation  his  sense  took  no  cognisance. 
His  head  was  continually  turned  towards 
the  pavilion,  where  the  peculiar  cha- 
racter of  Beatrice's  charms  appeared 
H  5 


154  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

heightened  by  their  contrast  with  sur- 
rounding objects. 

The  pale  moon-light,  and  the  cold 
whiteness  of  the  portico,  were  opposed 
to  the  glow  of  her  complexion,  and  the 
speaking  fire  of  her  eyes:  the  tranquillity 
of  the  flowers  and  trees,  (for  no  breeze 
disturbed  them,)  was  contrasted  by  her 
rapid  and  animating  movements.  She 
seemed  to  Cesario  the  sole  principle  of 
life  and  motion  in  this  lovely  scene  ;  and 
as  much  intoxicated  by  the  contemplation 
of  her  beauty,  as  agitated  by  the  thought 
of  quitting  her,  he  walked  with  a  hurried 
and  unequal  pace,  which  the  forbidding 
looks  of  the  Marchesa  kept  still  far  from 
the  pavilion. 

Happily  for  Cesario' s  wishes,  the  un- 
expected  ascent  of  some  fire-works  at  a 
distance  made  every  one  start  from  tlieir 
position,  and  run  towards  the  Pine-mount 
whence  it  proceeded.  In  the  rush  and 
■confusion,  Beatrice  escaped  from  her 
mother,   and  was  soon   near   enough   to 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  155 

Cesario  for  him  to  join  her.  **  Ah,  what 
a  tiresome  evening  this  has  been !"  she 
said,  in  reply  to  the  eloquent  glance  of 
his  eyes. 

"  One  of  torture  to  me!"  replied  Ce- 
sario, with  ill-repressed  emotion,  "  for  I 
wished  to  tell  you  that  we  sail  to-morrow^ 
and  I  had  a  boon  to  ask." 

"  Then  it  really  sails  after  all !"  cried 
Beatrice,  tears  suffusing  her  bright  eyes; 
*<  O  why  did  you  not  do  as  Marco  Doria 
has  done !" 

"  What  1  renounce  the  hope  of  dis- 
tinction, and  shut  myself  up  in  a  moun- 
tain-hovel ?" 

*'  A  j>erson  might  be  much  happier 
there  than  in  such  an  odiously-fine  place 
as  this,"  was  the  reply  of  Beatrice. 

*<  And  could  the  Signora  Brignoletti 
find  happiness  in  such  a  lot  ?"  asked 
Cesario,  his  heart  quivering  on  his  lips. 

The  Signora  did  not  answer;  but  she 
refused  not  the  hand  he  wildly  clasped  in 
both  his.  For  the  short  instant  duiing 
H  6 


156  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHK, 

which  he  retamed  this  wiUing  hand^ 
Cesario  saw  no  other  image  than  such  a 
mountain-hut  with  Beatrice  and  felicity. 

He  was  on  the  point  of  telhng  her  so> 
(all  lost  to  reason  as  he  was,)  when  tlie 
steps  of  persons  approaching  made  him 
check  the  tide  of  passion.  First  pausing, 
then  gently  drawing  a  ring  from  one  of 
her  passive  fingers,  he  whispered  in  ac- 
cents of  smothered  fire  —  "  O  let  me  cast 
myself  at  your  feet  in  this  spot  to-morrow 
morning,  before  the  first  matin  bell,  —  1 
sail  at  the  second.'* 

Beatrice  faltered  out  the  permission  he 
sought:  Cesario  ardently  kissed  the  hand, 
which  he  instantly  released  j  and  tore 
himself  away. 

Cesario  saw  nothings  felt  nothing,  re- 
membered nothing  but  this  ring,  and  the 
manner  in  which  it  had  been  rendered  to 
him.  He  could  not  recall,  how^  Beatrice 
had  looked  when  he  made  the  bold  theft; 
for  at  that  instant  a  mist  covered  his 
sight,  and  he  lost  every  other  thought  in 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  1.^7 

the  agony  of  transport  with  which  he  felt 
her  soft  finger  yielding  its  treasure. 

What  needed  he  more,  to  tell  him  that 
he  reigned  absolute  in  her  heart,  and 
that  she  was  ready  to  flee  with  him  from 
wealth  and  grandeur  to  the  mountain 
life  he  had  described  ?  ^\liat  needed  he 
more,  to  animate  him  on  his  way  to  peril 
and  glory? 

But  when  is  that  heart  satisfied,  where 
love  rules  like  a  tyrant  ?  Cesario  thirsted 
to  hear  the  voice  of  Beatrice  confirm  the 
assurance  of  her  eyes  ;  he  longed  to  cast 
himself  at  her  feet,  and  exhale  there  his 
ardent  soul  in  vows  and  thanks.  Perhaps 
he  dared  to  imagine  her  pressed  to  his 
sighing  breast,  and  bedewed  with  farewell 
tears,  too  sacred  for  passion  to  profane  I 

Burdened  with  its  own  fulness,  his 
heart  did  indeed  languish  for  participa- 
tion with  hers ;  and,  wishing  the  night 
annihilated,  he  reached  the  house  of  the 
Syndic,  unconscious  of  his  own  move- 
ments. 


158  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN 

There  was  no  sleep  for  Cesario  during 
the  hours  that  intervened  between  this 
period  and  that  in  which  he  hurried  out 
to  keep  his  appointment  in  the  Rosso 
gardens. 

He  had  previously  taken  leave  of  the 
good  Syndic  :  his  equipage  was  on  board; 
and  he  therefore  had  no  more  to  do  in 
Genoa  than  to  see  his  enchantress. 
'  As  he  approached  the  gate  of  St. 
Thomas,  he  was  overtaken  by  the  Prince 
of  Melfi,  attended  by  some  of  his  officers : 
"  Well  met,  Adimari,"  cried  the  Prince, 
taking  his  arm  and  impelling  him  forward, 
«  you  have  just  been  summoned.  The 
pirates  are  out,  —  the  wind  serves.  — 
Now,  for  your  first  throw,  for  death  or 
glory !" 

Never  before  did  those  two  words 
sound  appallingly  to  Cesario  :  he  turned 
pale  y  and  he  hesitated  in  his  walk.  A 
look  of  astonishment  from  the  Prince 
brought  the  crimson  back  to  his  cheek  ; 
and,  shocked  at  the  interpretation  to  which 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  159 

his  pvesent  agitation  was  liable,  he  stam- 
mered out,  —  "  I  could  have  wished  not  to 
have  been  summoned,  till  I  had  taken 
leave  of  a  friend,  who  must  now  be  wait- 
ing for  me  :  —  and  if" 

"  You  cannot  have  a  moment!"  inter- 
rupted Doria,  hurrying  him  on.  "  Your 
friend,  or  your  mistress,  must  console 
themselves  with  the  news  of  your  future 
exploits." 

Cesario  saw  there  was  no  remedy; 
and  rousing  his  spirit  from  its  trance  of 
love, 

*'  Like  dew-drops  shaken  from  the  hon's  mane," 

the  image  of  Beatrice,  of  parting  tears, 
benedictions,  and  embraces,  fled  at  once 
from  his  mind :  he  thought  of  contests 
and  conquests,  of  wounds  and  crowns, 
of  his  father's  fame,  and  his  country's 
gratitude. 


(     160     ) 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  saffi^on  of  early  morning  had  just 
changed  into  the  rosy  hue  that  precedes 
sunrise,  when  Cesario  reached  the  place 
of  embarkation.  The  harbour  was  all  in 
motion.  The  heavy  ships  were  standing 
out  to  sea  with  all  their  sails  set :  the  gal- 
liots and  brigantines  were  rowing. with 
quick  and  regular  strokes  to  the  sound 
of  martial  instruments:  different-coloured 
flags  were  seen  flying  from  the  masts* 
heads,  or  sweeping  the  blue  waves  with 
their  majestic  folds. 

Boats  passing  to  and  fro;  persons 
running  to  the  east  and  western  moles, 
to  catch  a  last  glimpse  of  their  departing 
friends  ;  handkerchiefs  waving ;  voices 
callings  oars  splashing j  signal-guns  an- 


THE  KNIOHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  l6l 

swering  each  other  from  the  vessels  and 
the  citadel ;  the  sea  and  the  land  all 
in  motion;  and  above  all,  the  Turkish 
cruisers  specking  the  horizon  ;  formed  so 
many  picturesque  and  animating  objects, 
that  Cesario  caught  the  contagion  of  en- 
thusiasm,  and,  for  the  next  six  hours, 
thought  only  of  battle  and  victory. 

'•  The  Tyrrhene  seas  did  glitter  all  with  flame; 
Up  sprung  the  cry  of  men,  and  trumpet's  blast.** 

When  those  six  hours  had  terminated, 
the  Genoese  fleet  were  masters  of  the 
watery  field :  they  had  given  chase  to 
the  pirates,  overtaken,  encountered,  and 
conquered  them. 

Part  of  the  enemy's  galliots  now  fol- 
lowed in  the  triumphant  train  of  the 
Capitanata;  the  small  remainder  wertr 
either  sunk,  or  seeking  shelter  in  the 
obscure  ports  of  the  adjacent  islands. 
The  action  had  been  fiercely  contested. 

Animated  by  the  deadliest  feelings  of 
revenge  and  animosity,,   each  party  had 


l62  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

exerted  the  most  determined  and  obsti- 
nate resolution.  Death  or  victory  seemed 
to  have  been  the  motto  under  which  they 
fought ;  and  deeds  of  valour  were  per- 
formed, which  in  themselves  would  have 
immortalised  the  arm  that  wrought  them, 
but  that  all  were  heroes,  all  fighting  as 
if  the  fate  of  the  battle  rested  on  each 
individual  exertion. 

Cesario,  now  foremost  in  the  ranks  of 
death,  felt  this  soul-inspiring  thought; 
and,  emulative  of  his  great  leader's  fame, 
sought  by  some  mightier  effort  to  become 
conspicuous  in  the  dreadful  conflict.  In 
vain  he  set  his  life  at  nought  to  win  this 
pre-eminence ;  each  fearless  deed  was 
seconded ;  the  glorious  example  of  their 
chief  had  fired  all  ranks,  and  he  saw  that 
no  common  daring  could  lift  him  above 
his  dauntless  companions. 

Fortune  at  this  moment,  as  if  in  re- 
ward for  his  exertions,  now  smiled  on 
them,  and  pointed  to  the  long-wished 
and  ardently-desired  opportunity. 


THE  KMGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  l63 

Their  infidel  adversary,  (carrying  the 
commander-in-chief's  flag,}  defeated,  and 
nearly  destroyed,  after  a  most  determined 
but  unavailing  resistance,  was  now  at- 
tempting to  clear  herself  from  her  oppo- 
nent, and  escape :  Cesario,  whose  eagle 
eye  had  vratched  every  turn  of  the  fight, 
perceived  her  intention  ;  and  maddening 
with  the  anticipated  joy  of  reaching  that 
pinnacle  of  glory  he  had  so  nobly  striven 
for,  called  on  a  few  of  his  gallant  follow- 
ers to  support  him,  and  threw  himself 
into  the  enemy's  vessel. 

Amazement  seized  the  Turks  at  this 
desperate  act  of  valour ;  they  were 
thrown  into  confusion  ;  assistance  poured 
iu  from  Doria's  vessel ;  and  Cesario  soon 
found  himself  in  possession  of  the  Tiu'k- 
ish  admiral's  sword  and  ship. 

This  gallant  action  had  been  witnessed 
and  duly  appreciated;  all  ranks  joined 
in  bestowing  the  highest  honours  on  the 
youthful  warrior,  and  hailing  him  the 
hero  of  the  fight. 


164  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

On  the  deck  of  the  captured  vessel, 
and  in  the  presence  of  enemies  and  com- 
patriots, Prince  Gianettino  embraced  his 
young  lieutenant,"  —  **  You  have  proved 
yourself  worthy  of  your  father,'*  he  said, 
and  his  eyes  glistened.  Cesario  squeezed 
the  hero's  hand  in  eloquent  silence  ;  then, 
more  respectfully  putting  it  to  his  lips, 
returned  such  an  answer  as  the  occasion 
demanded. 

After  so  convincing  "  a  proof  of  his 
mettle,"  he  had  nearly  as  many  enviers 
as  admirers  ;  but,  awakened  to  a  passion 
for  renown,  and  a  sense  of  duty,  by  suc- 
cess and  eulogium,  Cesario  had  no 
thoughts  to  bestow  on  jealous  infe- 
riority ;  he  began  to  cherish  hopes  of 
a  destiny  as  brilliant  as  the  lover  of 
Signora  Brignoletti  ought  to  aspire  to ; 
and  to  dream,  for  golden  instants,  of  tlie 
only  equivalent  he  would  ever  accept  in 
the  place  of  a  patrimony  cruelly  with- 
drawn—  lands  bestowed  hereafter  by 
his  country. 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST. JOHN.  iGo 

If  these  reveries  were  troubled  at  times, 
it  was  by  the  recollection  of  the  appoint- 
ment he  had  made,  and  broken,  with 
Beatrice. 

What  must  she  have  thought  of  him 
while  awaiting  him  in  vain  ?  while  walk- 
ing through  tliose  dewy  gardens,  under 
the  grey  dawn,  hearing  the  momentary 
gun  that  marked  each  departing  ship  ; 
and  then  beholding  the  white  sails  of  tlie 
collected  fleet  hovering  like  a  flight  of 
sea-fowl  on  the  horizon  ? 

Could  she  have  admitted  a  suspicion, 
that  any  thing  but  imperious  honour  had 
prevailed  against  his  love  ? — no — it  was 
impossible  she  could  think  otherwise : 
and  again  and  again  Cesario  fastened  his 
lips  to  that  little  circle  of  gold,  where  it 
seemed  as  if  all  his  future  hopes  were 
contained. 

Transports  like  these  w^ere  the  luxu- 
ries of  his  solitary  moments  ;  all  his  social 
hours  were  given  to  action  and  to  enter- 
prise. 


166  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

Prince  Doria  had  given  him  the  com- 
mand of  a  galley  ;  and  as  the  roving 
warfare  of  the  pirates  was  best  coped 
with  by  the  same  adventurous  methods, 
Cesario's  eagerness  to  distinguish  him- 
self rendered  him  more  forward  in  the 
dangerous  but  necessary  boldness  of 
pui'suit. 

The  vSan  Lorenzo  (the  ship  Cesario 
commanded)  was  giving  chase  to  a 
single  galliot  near  the  jocks  of  Corsica, 
when  the  evening  of  a  sultry  day  began 
to  darken,  and  some  heavy  clouds  of 
gloomy  purple  foretold  a  storm.  The 
galliot,  familiar  with  the  coast,  and  form- 
ed to  run  in  shallow  water,  ran  safely  in 
shore  under  the  shelter  of  the  rocks  ; 
while  the  heavier  galley  of  Cesario, 
obliged  to  keep  out  to  sea,  remained 
exposed  to  the  violence  of  the  rising 
tempest. 

Night  thickened  ;  the  winds  began  to 
rage  from  every  quarter  of  the  heavens 
by     turns  5     the     hoarse    roar    of    the 
15 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  IG7 

breakers  was  heard,  mixed  with  the 
shriller  cries  of  sea-birds ;  the  galley 
laboured  and  groaned  among  the  splash- 
ing waves  ;  —  still  Cesario  was  loath  to 
relinquish  his  expected  prey  ;  the  master 
at  length  bluntly  told  him,  that  unless  he 
gave  up  the  pursuit,  every  soul  must  in- 
evitably perish. 

It  was  now  indeed  impossible  to  pursue 
the  pirate,  who  ran  his  lighter  vessel 
ashore  in  a  friendly  creek,  where  the 
darkness  and  the  situation  favoured  his 
concealment ;  the  San  Lorenzo  therefore 
made  for  the  island  of  Pianosa. 

Well  built,  and  ably  manned,  the 
Genoese  galley  rode  out  the  storm  during 
the  night,  and,  by  day-break,  as  she 
neared  the  island-rock,  guns  were  heard 
on  the  subsiding  wind. 

By  the  quivering  light  of  their  succes- 
sive flashes,  Cesario  and  his  companions 
found  they  proceeded  from  a  vessel  in 
distress ;  he  returned  her  signals,  and 
every  exertion  was  made  to  reach  her. 


168  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

The  unhappy  merchantman  (for  such 
she  was)  had  struck  upon  a  low  rock, 
close  to  the  desert  Pianosa,  and  her 
loosened  planks  were  beginning  to  sepa- 
rate. 

Boats,  crowded  with  women,  children, 
and  mariners  in  the  wildest  despair,  were 
seen  on  the  mountainous  waves,  strug- 
gling to  attain  the  friendly  galley  :  those 
whom  the  boats  could  not  receive,  had 
cast  themselves  into  the  sea,  catching  at 
spars,  oars,  any  thing,  in  short,  slight 
enough  to  grasp,  and  strong  enough  to 
bear  them  up. 

Impatient  of  delay,  Cesario  had  al- 
ready thrown  himself  with  a  few  sailors 
into  his  own  boat,  and  was  making  to- 
wards the  wreck,  for  he  had  discovered 
on  the  remnant  of  the  vessel  some  women 
running  in  distraction  to  and  fro,  and  a 
single  man,  who,  by  his  gestures,  ap- 
peared encouraging  them  to  hope  and 
exertion. 

By  this  time  the  dawn  was  much  ad- 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  1^9 

vanced,  and  objects,   though  indistinct, 
gradually  became  more  visible. 

Cesario  beheld  with  dismay  the  situ- 
ation of  the  people. 

The  wind  indeed  had  fallen,  but  the 
sullen  silence  of  the  clouds  above,  was 
broken  by  the  deafening  roai'  of  the 
waves  below ;  a  prodigious  swell  was 
thundering  forward,  sweeping  the  help- 
less  wreck  along  with  it. 

That  fearful  swell  carried  her  at  once 
over  the  rock  where  she  had  first  struck ; 
but,  still  rushing  on  with  tremendous 
force,  dashed  her  against  the  more  for- 
midable rocks  of  the  inner  coast. 

Her  only  remaining  mast  fell  with  a 
loud  crash,  and,  as  it  fell,  the  solitary 
man  upon  the  deck  disappeared  under 
it:  a  shock,  a  shriek — O  what  a  shriek  ! 
—  told  Cesario  that  he  came  too  late ; 
the  wi'etched  vessel  was  now  scattering 
her  timbers  over  the  face  of  the  waters. 

The  women  clung  to  its  floating  frag- 
ments with  instinctive  sense  5  but  alas ! 

VOL.  I.  I 


170  THE  KNIGHT  Of  ST.  JOHN. 

their  stunned  companion  lay  senseless  on 
the  surface. 

Cesario  was  on  the  point  of  leaping 
into  the  sea,  and  swimming  through  the 
raging  elements  to  this  devoted  victim ; 
but  aware  that  in  doing  so  he  must 
perish  without  attaining  the  object  de- 
sired, he  exerted  all  his  own  skill  and 
his  men's  courage,  to  impel  their  boat 
foi'ward  to  their  assistance. 

As  they  proceeded  they  were  menaced 
with  instant  destruction  on  every  side; 
large  masses  of  the  wreck,  impetuously 
hurried  by  the  current  against  their 
slight  boat,  threatened  to  overturn  it ; 
rocks  above  and  rocks  below  water  sur- 
rounded tliem ;  but  still  manfully  com- 
bating every  obstacle,  they  passed  safely 
through,  and  reached  the  given  point. 

The  unfortunate  man  yet  lay  without 
motion  on  the  water ;  the  next  instant 
he  must  have  sunk :  but  what  will  not 
humanity  attempt  and  courage  execute  ? 
Cesario  called  on  his  men  to  keep  the 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  171 

boat  steady,  while  he  fearlessly  plunged 
out  of  it  into  the  boiling  surf. 

It  was  but  a  moment  of  alarm  and 
strong  emotion :  the  next  instant  he  re- 
gained the  boat,  with  the  object  of  his 
solicitude  in  his  arms. 

The  sailors  had  previously  rescued  the 
women  j  the  other  boats  had  gained  the 
galley  :  not  a  soul  had  perished.  Ce- 
sario  hastily  passed  his  hand  over  his 
eyes,  to  hide  feelings  which  honoured 
his  manhood:  the  joyful  conviction  of 
being  the  preserver  of  so  many  persons, 
rendered  his  late  martial  triumph  cold 
and  worthless  in  comparison;  but  this 
was  not  a  time  for  indulging  in  reflec- 
tions of  any  kind,  for  the  unfortunate 
man  whom  he  had  saved  still  demanded 
his  care. 

He  now  took  him  once  more  in  his 
arms,  to  observe  whether  life  yet  re- 
mained :  as  he  did  so,  the  pale  head 
hung  feebly  backward,  but  the  mild  blue 
eyes  unclosed. 


17^  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHK. 

Was  it  a  dream,  or  did  Cesario  in 
reality  support  upon  his  breast  the  man 
he  had  avoided  with  so  much  passion? 
Was  it  memory  or  fancy,  working  in  his 
mind,  that  told  him  he  had  just  saved 
the  life  of  Giovanni  Cigala  ?  and  so  re- 
paid with  overflowing  measure  all  the 
proofs  of  kindness  which  had  been  thrust 
upon  him  by  the  only  noble  offspring  of 
that  detested  race ! 

The  tremulous  day  was  yet  uncertain; 
but  he  could  not  again  mistake  that  face 
when  united  with  the  soul  which  stamped 
its  individuality. 

"  Keep  off!  —  he  revives !"  was  his 
hurried  exclamation.  Willing  to  have 
that  instant  of  strong  emotion  without 
witnesses,  he  motioned  to  the  sailors  and 
women  to  precede  him  into  the  galley, 
which  had  now  row^d  up  to  them. 
During  the  transfer  of  these  persons,  he 
had  time  to  collect  his  amazed  thoughts. 
Giovanni's  hand  was  in  his :  hitherto  it 
had  been  motionless;  but  now  a  trem- 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  173 

bling  pressure  conveyed  his  generous 
gratitude.  "  Adimari  !**  he  said,  in  low 
accents,  "  Heaven  ordains  us  to  be 
friends." 

"  O  that  some  revelation  from  heaven 
would  indeed  tell  me  so  \"  exclaimed  Ce- 
sario,  transported  out  of  himself  by  this 
extraordinary  adventure,  and  involun- 
tarily straining  Giovanni  to  his  breast. 

•*  I  owe  my  life  to  you,"  said  Gio- 
vanni, "  and  I  devote  it  to  you  hence- 
forth.    Yes,  whether  you  will  or  no." 

Overcome  with  a  rapid  retrospect  of 
past  times,  at  these  words  Cesario  bowed 
his  head  upon  the  shoulder  of  Giovanni ; 
with  a  deep  sigh,  he  said,  **  In  this  hour 
of  agitation  I  am  not  myself;  I  know 
not  what  I  say ;"  and,  folding  Giovanni 
with  his  supporting  arm,  he  called  one  of 
the  seamen  to  assist  in  raising  him  into 
the  galley. 

Saved  from  death  by  the  exertions  of 
Cesario,  and  thrown  upon  his  humanity 
for  the  remaining  period  of  their  cruise, 
I  3 


174.^  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

Giovanni  had  powerful  auxiliaries  in  these 
circumstances :  nay,  even  the  weak  parts 
in  the  character  of  Cesario  assisted  him 
in  the  conquest  he  sought  over  his  pre- 
judices. 

His  proud  spirit  was  appeased  by  the 
obligation  he  had  already  laid  upon  the 
son  of  Paulo  Cigala :  he  now  thought 
only  of  showing  to  him  that  an  Adimari 
scorned  all  revenge  save  that  of  added 
services ;  that  while  these  services  were 
needed  by  one  of  the  Cigali,  he  would 
render  them  profusely ;  but  that  neces- 
sity over,  the  obliger  and  the  obliged 
must  return  into  their  former  constrained 
position. 

Cesario  had  yet  to  learn  his  own  heart : 
he  had  yet  to  learn,  also,  the  influence  of 
an  enthusiastic  interest,  steady  yet  not 
obtrusive  ;  forbearing,  yet  dignified ;  ex- 
traordinary, but  not  extravagant.  He 
had  yet  to  learn,  that  even  love  itself 
sufficed  not  for  all  the  wants  of  a  soul 
like  his,  created  to  desire  and  to  feel 


THK  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  175 

every  animated  sentiment  j  to  aspire  after, 
and,  liaply,  to  reach  every  heroic  virtue. 

The  injury  Giovanni  had  sustained  by 
the  fall  of  the  mast,  was  aggravated  by 
a  fever,  which  confined  him  entirely  to 
the  rough  couch  of  Cesario's  cabin.  Here, 
when  not  required  amongst  his  people, 
Cesario  came  to  assist  in  administering 
to  his  ailments  ;  or  to  relieve  the  tedium 
of  solitary  inaction,  by  reading  or  con- 
versation. 

At  these  times,  Giovanni  forbore  to 
speak  either  of  his  gratitude  or  his  now- 
rivetted  resolution  to  win  his  friendship : 
but  the  expression  of  his  mildly-pene- 
trating eye  spoke  volumes ;  and  Cesario* 
from  avoiding  its  fixture,  grew  to  endure 
its  mute  appeal  5  and,  finally,  to  seek  and 
to  love  the  look  which  laid  bare  that  pure 
and  disinterested  heart. 

Giovanni,  in  his  turn,  became  daily 
more  interested  in  the  character  and  for- 
tunes of  Cesario  -,  the  almost  romantic 
attraction  be  had  felt  towards  him  while 
I  4- 


176  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

he  was  an  object  rather  of  his  imagin* 
ation  than  his  knowledge,  seemed  now 
to  be  at  once  justifiable  by  reason,  and 
demanded  by  gratitude. 

In  their  desultory  conversations,  where 
feeling  was  seldom  analyzed,  but  uni- 
formly displayed,  Cesario  showed  all  the 
varieties  of  his  character.  The  nobleness 
of  his  sentiments,  contrasted  with  the 
mediocrity  of  his  destiny,  was  only  the 
more  affecting:  and  that  war  between 
ingenuous  sympathy  and  exaggerated 
duty,  which  never  failed  appearing  when- 
ever his  father's  memory  crossed  these 
hours  of  intercourse,  excited  at  once 
respect  and  regret  in  the  bosom  of  Gio- 
vanni. 

Once,  indeed,  unable  to  resist  a  pecu- 
liarly tender  tide  of  recollections  which 
the  mention  of  liis  father's  early  career 
caused  to  flow,  he  spoke  at  laige  of  that 
cherished  parent ;  he  described  his  gentle 
manners  and  gracious  countenance  ;  his 
bounteous  and  ever-open  h:yid }  his  un- 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN".  177 

blemished  life  and  guileless  heart,  which 
seemed  remnants  of  the  golden  age :  he 
painted  his  love  and  reverence  of  that 
honoured  parent,  with  all  the  eloquence 
of  profound  sensibility ;  and,  as  the  mois- 
ture which  clouded  his  own  eyes  was  re- 
flected by  that  of  Giovanni's,  now  fixed 
on  him  with  brotherly  expression,  he  for- 
got his  hated  lineage,  and  said  in  broken 
accents,  "  Oh,  you  were  worthy  to  have 
known  him !" 

Giovanni  could  with  difficulty  master 
the  pleasurable  emotion  which  struggled 
to  have  way :  he  raised  himself  from  his 
couch,  took  and  squeezed  Cesario's  hand. 
Cesario's  heart  took  alarm  at  that  sign  of 
confidence  :  the  expression  of  tenderness 
subsided  from  his  countenance,  while  that 
of  trouble  and  of  self-reproach  succeeded. 
He  fixed  his  eyes  earnestly  upon  Gio- 
vanni, as,  profoundly  sighing,  he  said,  in 
an  altered  voice,  —  **  Man  cannot  control 
destiny  ;  and  he  must  submit  to  it."  While 
I  5 


178  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST,  JOHN. 

he  spoke,  he  dropped  Giovanni's  hand, 
and  left  him. 

When  they  met  again,  it  was  on  the 
ensuing  day  in  the  stern  gallery,  where 
Giovanni,  for  the  first  time,  was  allowed 
to  breathe  the  free  air. 

A  signal  from  the  Admiral  had  just 
declared  the  objects  of  the  expedition 
attained,  and  turned  all  the  fleet  home- 
wards. The  San  Lorenzo  was  now  coast- 
ing the  shores  of  the  Papal  states;  and  ere 
a  few  days  should  elapse,  her  victorious 
flag  would  be  flying  in  the  port  of 
Genoa. 

Would  that  event  at  once  dissolve  the 
union  of  mind,  if  it  were  not  to  be  called 
one  of  heart,  between  the  preserver 
and  the  preserved  ?  would  the  sight  of 
places^  where  he  had  suffered  real  anguish 
and  supposed  wrong,  revive  the  slum- 
bering resentment  and  antipathy  of  Ce- 
sario  ?  would  he,  indeed,  have  the  cruel 
courage  to  tear  himself  from  all  inter- 
course  with  a  man,  who  had  sympathised 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN'.  179 

with  his  worthiest  feeling  ?  would  he  in- 
flict such  a  wound  upon  a  trusting  breast  ? 
When  tliey  met  in  the  gallery,  after  the 
first  interchange  of  good  wishes,  and  the 
performance  of  some  kind  offices  on  the 
part  of  Cesario,  Giovanni  fell  into  a  re- 
verie, during  which  he  asked  himself 
these  questions. 

Cesario,  meanwhile,  was  thinking  of  a 
far  different  subject. 

As  the  galley  glided  through  glassy 
waves,  under  a  beautiful  morning  sky, 
he  stood,  not  far  from  Giovanni,  leaning 
on  the  railing  of  the  balcony,  completely 
abstracted  from  surrounding  things.  Gio- 
vanni's attention  was  insensibly  attracted 
by  the  peculiar  and  varying  expressions 
of  his  countenance.  At  times  he  saw  his 
cheek  kindle,  and  his  eyes  sparkle  with 
sudden  brilliancy  ;  then  the  colour  and 
the  light  would  fade  from  both,  and 
softness,  even  to  languor,  steal  over  his 
features. 

Unconscious  of  the  tremor  and  Ire- 
1  6 


1§0  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHIT- 

quency  of  his  sighs,  Cesario  continued  to 
muse  and  to  sigh ;  and  once,  quite  lost  to 
every  other  idea,  he  carried  Beatrice's 
ring  to  his  lips,  and  held  it  there  in  a 
trance  of  fond  remembrances. 

This  action,  coupled  with  the  look  by 
which  it  was  accompanied,  fixed  a  floating 
suspicion  in  the  mind  of  Giovanni.  He 
had  observed  much  in  the  conduct  and 
conversation  of  Cesario,  which  warranted 
the  belief  of  his  being  attached  to  some 
lady  in  Genoa ;  and  now,  while  anxiously 
contemplating  his  agitated  countenance, 
he  grieved  to  think,  that  this  affection, 
though  returned  by  its  object,  might  be 
thwarted  by  unkind  relatives,  or  rendered 
abortive  by  mutual  poverty. 

<«  Had  my  imprudent  sister  been  this 
chosen  object  I"  he  said  to  himself,  in- 
dulging a  momentary  vision  of  generous 
improbabilities,  "  all  might  have  been 
made  up  to  him  T' 

Giovanni  had  touched  the  most  painful 
chord  of  his   own  heart  by  this  spon- 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  181 

taneous  reflection  ;  and,  drawn  from  the 
consideration  of  Cesario  by  hopes  and 
fears  about  his  sister,  he  withdrew  his 
eyes,  which  unconsciously  took  the  va- 
cant fixture  of  deep  thought,  and  pur- 
sued a  train  of  troubled  meditation. 

A  demand  for  orders,  from  some  sailors, 
who  had  rowed  round  the  stern,  recalled 
Cesario  to  himself  5  and  having  given 
them  the  necessary  commands,  he  turned 
from  his  own  tumultuous  thoughts  to  seek 
the  conversation  of  Giovanni. 

But  for  once  he  found  Giovanni  self- 
absorbed  ;  never  had  Cesario  seen  him 
look  so  absolutely  sad;  and  penetrated 
by  that  unusuai  expression,  in  proportion 
to  his  own  expectation  of  coming  hap- 
piness, he  drew  near  and  sat  down  by 
him. 

"  Cigala,  something  distressing  em- 
ploys your  mind !"  he  said  this  in  a  tone 
of  lively  interest :  **  I  would  1  could  charm 
it  away,  before  we  part."  He  made  a 
short  pause  between  the  first  sentence  of 


182  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

this  address,  and  the  few  concluding 
words,  which  he  strove  to  say  in  a  lighter 
manner. 

*«  And  are  we  io  part,  Adimari?" 
asked  Giovanni,  raising  his  full  mild  eye, 
and  laying  on  him  a  hand  chilled  by 
painful  surprise. 

<«  We  ought  —  we  must,"  — was  Ce- 
sario's  answer,  hemming  away  a  sigh, 
and  averting  his  head. 

«  What !  part  to  meet  no  more  ?"  re- 
peated Giovanni. 

«  No  more  on  earth  —  at  least  not  as 
we  meet  now,"  resumed  Cesario  v/ith 
seriousness.  "You  were  aware  of  my 
principles  —  prejudices,  if  you  please- 
long  ago — I  hope  you  are  not  very  much 
surprised  to  find  that  I  still  believe  it  my 
duty  to  abide  by  them  ?" 

It  is  a  strange  inconsistency  in  human 
nature,  that  when  we  are  obliged  to  say 
or  do  an  unkind  thing,  and  feel  most  pain 
from  that  necessity,  we  always  try  to  hide 
our  concern    under    an   appearancg   of 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  183 

hardness  or  indifference.  Something  like 
remorse,  in  truth  it  was  regret,  tugged 
at  Cesario's  heart-strings  :  yet  he  main- 
tained his  air  of  chilling  determination, 
and  moved  a  few  steps  away,  to  conceal 
his  inward  struggle. 

Giovanni  looked  after  him  with  earnest 
observation :  a  long  silence  followed. 
At  length  he  said,  *'  I  am  surprised  -— 
and  how  grieved,  I  forbear  to  say.  I 
wish  you  had  not  bestowed  on  me  the 
useless  obhgation  of  life  saved  :  for  what 
is  it  to  a  man,  standing  alone  in  the 
world,  bereft  of  kindred,  outraged  by 
love,  and  denied  friendship  ?" 

"  You  have  loved  then.  Cicala?** 
exclaimed  Cesario,  turning  on  hira  a 
countenance  all  melting  v/ith  kindly  sym- 
pathy. 

**  I  have,"  repHed  Giovanni,  <«  and  I 
remember  enough  of  its  pains,  to  wish 
you  nothing  but  its  joys.  Go,  Adimari ; 
I  read  your  feelings  in  your  face ;  — - 
would,  I  coidd  read  your  destiny  also  !  — 


184  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

if  that  were  all  prosperity,  here  would  I 
quit  my  hold  upon  your  heart ;  and  let 
you  loose  to  that  happiness,  which  you 
will  not  even  permit  me  to  witness  and 
rejoice  in  :  but  if  it  is  to  be  otherwise  ;  if 
you  suspect,  that  you  are  destined  to 
drink  the  bitter  cup  I  have  drunk  of, 
then  nothing  shall  make  me  leave  you  till 
I  have  wrung  your  promise  of  claiming 
my  grateful  sympathy  in  that  day  of 
desolation." 

*«  That  day  will  never  come !"  ex- 
claimed Cesario,  rapturously.  **  Witness 
this  precious  pledge  of  love,  for  which 
princes  might  contend  in  vain.  A  moun- 
tain-hut with  me — yes,  Beatrice  ;  so 
spoke  those  flowing  eyes,  when " 

'*  I  must  not  steal  your  confidence," 
interrupted  Giovanni,  seeing  him  hurried 
out  of  himself  j  and,  as  he  spoke,  he 
rose. 

"  Stay,  Cigala — stay!"  cried  Cesario: 
while  saying  so,  he  pushed  him  gently 
back,  and  seeing  him  remain,  took  seve- 


THE  Knight  of  st.  john.         IS5 

ral  turns  up   and  down  the  gallery,   m 
troubled  silence. 

If  grief  be  hard  to  bear  alone,  happi- 
ness unshared  is  intolerable.  Never 
had  Cesario  groaned  so  powerfully  for 
the  sympathies  of  friendship  ;  and  never, 
till  now,  had  Giovanni's  image  presented 
itself  to  him  in  the  light  of  one  seeking 
compassion  and  sympathy. 

With  a  sister,  w^hose  fate  w^as  involved 
in  mystery  ;  a  youth,  blighted  by  unre- 
quited or  unfortunate  love,  was  not  Gio- 
vanni Cigala  fitted  to  excite,  and  to  i'eel, 
that  species  of  friendship  which,  tinc- 
tured by  the  chivalrous  spirit  of  their  age, 
had  in  it  all  the  ardour  without  the  in- 
firmity of  passion  ?  Would  not  his  gentler 
temper  assist  Cesario  in  moderating  the 
impetuosity  of  his  ?  Were  the  elder  Adi- 
mari,  in  heaven,  allow^ed  to  select  a  bosom 
confidant  for  his  son  on  earth,  would  he 
not  choose  such  an  one  as  Giovanni  ?  and 
were  that  sainted  parent  able  to  reveal  his 


186  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

sentiments  on  this  trying  question,  what 
would  they  be  ? 

Cesario  pressed  his  throbbing  temples 
with  his  hand,  as  he  paused  upon  these 
questions.  Again  he  asked  himself,  what 
would  his  father's  sentiments  be?  and 
the  reply  was, — affection  for  Giovanni's 
admirable  and  estimable  qualities ;  sen- 
sibility to  his  attachment ;  grateful  re- 
membrance of  all  he  had  offered,  and  all 
he  had  done,  to  soothe  the  pain  of  wounds 
which  he  could  not  prevent ! 

By  the  elder  Adimari's  silent  resent- 
ment at  the  supposed  ingratitude  of 
Prince  Doria,  had  he  not  distinctly  de- 
livered it  as  his  opinion,  that;  a  man  is 
bound,  by  indissoluble  ties,  to  him  who 
has  saved  his  life  ?  Thus,  then,  Gio- 
vanni's persevering  attachment  took  the 
stamp  of  a  duty ;  and  if  it  were  virtue  in 
him  to  persevere,  it  must  be  culpable  or 
cruel  in  his  preserver  to  resist. 

"  Am  I  absolved,  then,  from  the  sin 
of  impiety,   if  I  link  my  heart  with  Ci- 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOH^.  1 87 

gala  ?*'  asked  Cesario,  inwardly.  **  Is  it 
enough  that  again  and  again  I  spumed 
his  offered  kindness,  when  I  had  no 
friend  to  console  me,  no  heart  to  beat, 
like  his,  in  generous  sympathy  with 
mine  ?  Then  I  might  have  doubted  the 
disinterestedness  of  my  gratitude  ;  but 
now,  O,  my  father !  may  I  not  forget  that 
he  is  the  son  of  thy  destroyer,  and  think 
of  him  but  as  one  to  whom  I  may  lament 
thee?'' 

During  this  internal  address,  he  stood 
with  his  face  buried  in  his  hands.  Gio- 
vanni watched  him  from  a  short  distance, 
with  extreme  anxiety.  Suddenly  Cesario 
approached  :  he  stretched  out  his  arms, 
his  face  beaming  through  tears.  Gio- 
vanni precipitated  himself  upon  his  neck, 
and  there,  locked  in  a  strong  embrace, 
their  hearts  silently  exchanged  the  vow 
of  friendship. 

If  their  delight  in  each  other's  so- 
ciety had  hitherto  been  great,  what  was 
it  now,  when  reserve  on  the  one  side, 


188  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

and  apprehension  on  the  other,  gave 
way  before  the  full  tide  of  mutual  confi- 
dence ? 

The  story  of  Giovanni's  past,  and  Ce- 
sario's  present  love,  occupied  many  suc- 
ceeding hours.  Cesario  was  moved  by 
the  vivid  picture  Giovanni  drew  of  his 
former  sensibility  to  the  most  powerful 
of  human  passions  ;  but  more  astonished, 
that,  having  once  felt  such  a  passion,  he 
should  live  to  look  back  on  those  days 
without  anguish  that  they  were  over. 

It  could  not  arise  from  coldness  of 
character,  he  thought ;  for  with  what 
enthusiasm  did  he  speak  of  the  chivalric 
profession  into  which  he  had  then  thrown 
himself;  and  with  what  romantic  per- 
severance had  he  sought  his  friendship ! 
Was  it  then  the  natural  march  of  human 
feeling  ?  Cesario  shuddered  at  the  chil- 
ling supposition :  for  love  was  now  a 
spurce  of  such  bliss  to  him,  that  he  fan- 
cied even  its  torments  preferable  to  its 
extinction. 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  189 

The  openness  with  which  he  expressed 
this  astonishment  might  have  tempted 
another  man  into  justifying  his  own  sen- 
sibility, by  explaining  the  soberising  ef- 
fects of  time,  and  of  reason,  earnestly 
called  into  action ;  but,  unwilling  to 
rend  the  bright  blossoms  of  youthful  im- 
agination, Giovanni  forbore  to  detail  the 
progress  of  his  mind  from  grief  to  indig- 
nation, from  indignation  to  scorn,  and 
at  last  to  indifference.  He  simply  said, 
"  From  the  moment  of  my  profession,  I 
devoted  the  powers  of  my  mind,  and 
the  affections  of  my  heart,  to  higher  pur- 
poses :  I  devoted  myself  to  a  life  of 
singleness  and  the  cros's.  Is  it  wonder- 
ful, then,  that  my  soul  should  reject 
every  remembrance  of  a  sentiment  which 
its  object  had  dishonoured  in  my  eyes, 
and  that  I  shoukl  consider  the  vow  which 
bound  me  to  refrain  from  woman's  love, 
not  as  bondage,  but  as  freedom  ?  I 
know  not  wliat  the  destiny  of  my  heart 
might  ha\e  been,  had  my   attachment 


190  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

been  as  truly  returned  as  yours,  and  my 
mistress  torn  from  me  by  death  or  duty  : 
as  it  is,  I  have  done  with  every  inclina- 
tion of  the  kind.'' 

Cesario  smiled — "  You  will  love  again, 
and  find  happiness." 

"  No :  friendship  will  content  me,*' 
replied  Giovanni ;  and  the  satisfaction, 
as  well  as  purity  of  heaven,  shone  in  his 
serene  eyes. 

Cesario  shook  his  head,  without  speak- 
ing ;  but  his  smile,  and  the  incredulous 
action  of  his  head,  required  no  com- 
ment. 

The  conversation  again  reverted  to 
Signora  Brignoletti.  Beatrice  was  per- 
sonally unknown  to  Giovanni ;  he  there- 
fore  took  his  idea  of  her  from  the  por- 
trait painted  by  her  lover. 

Coloured  by  that  lover's  vivid  sensi- 
bility, her  portrait  was,  indeed,  charm- 
ing :  it  was  Beauty,  without  thought  of 
power  ;  Youth,  in  all  [its  innocence  and 
ardour  j  Love,  undisguised,  because  pure 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  191 

and  generous :  in  short,  it  was  all  that 
would  have  given  happiness  in  those 
blissful  days,  when  the  affections  and 
duties  were  man's  only  law-givers,  and  the 
tyranny  of  prejudices  and  the  distinc- 
tions of  society  were  unknown. 

But,  alas!  those  blissful  times  were 
past,  and  Giovanni  saw  in  their  stead  a 
host  of  difficulties  betv/een  his  friend's 
wishes  and  their  object. 

Beatrice  was  very  young  :  m.ost  likely, 
therefore,  timid  in  spirit ;  long-continued 
opposition  from  her  relatives  might  even- 
tually harass  her  into  giving  up  her  own 
inclinations.  Possibly  she  might  have 
the  instability  of  her  age  ;  and  time,  or  a 
new  object,  cause  her  fancy  to  alter. 

But  of  all  the  obstacles  to  Cesario's 
success  which  Giovanni  imagined,  none 
appeared  to  him  so  formidable,  and  so 
sure  of  checking  his  fond  career,  as  Ce- 
sario's  own  principles.  At  present,  in- 
toxicated with  the  joy  of  beholding  his 
fair  mistress,  and  being  permitted  to  tell 


192  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST^  JOHN. 

her  how  absolute  she  reigned  over  his 
affections,  Cesario  dreamt  not  of  a  wish 
beyond,  nor  anticipated  the  period  when 
headlong  passion  would  demand  its  ut- 
most gratification,  and  meditate  seizing 
it  at  the  expense  of  Beatrice's  duty  and 
his  ow^n  honour. 

Giovanni  foresaw  this  period,  and 
rightly  believed  that  Cesario  would  then 
shrmk  with  horror  from  the  baseness  of 
persuading  a  young  woman^  to  abandon 
her  first  duties,  and  act  in  open  rebellion 
against  her  sole  remaining  parent.  Nay, 
were  even  that  parent's  consent  to  be 
wrung  from  her  by  importunities  or  per- 
severance, how  would  Cesario's  pride  en- 
dure  the  humiliation  of  owing  dignity 
and  riches  to  his  wii'e  ?  How  would  his 
jealous  reputation  bear  the  probable  mis- 
conception of  public  opinion  ? 

Giovanni  felt  and  reasoned  thus  ibr 
his  friend ;  but,  as  yet,  their  bond  of 
amity  was  too  newly  knit  to  warrant  him 
in  urging  a  sacrilice  of  this  inauspicious 


THE  KXIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  193 

attadiment:  he  could  only  resolve  to 
watch  its  progress  with  an  attentive  eye, 
and  to  seize  the  first  troubled  feeling  of 
Cesario,  as  a  fortunate  opportunity  fbr 
enlarging  upon  those  motives,  which  he 
ventured  to  hope,  would  be  all-powerful 
with  one  so  ingenuous  and  so  just. 

If  Giovanni  ever  indulged  a  selfish 
joy,  this  was  the  period  in  which  he  was 
the  most  inchned  to  it :  for,  in  attaining 
Cesario's  friendship,  he  had  acquired 
that,  which  for  six  years,  he  had  sought 
in  vain — a  source  of  deep,  increasing, 
interest,  calculated  to  nourish  that  gene- 
rous sympathy  which  might  be  said  to 
constitute  his  very  being,  and  which  had 
languished  hitherto  for  want  of  aliment. 

Giovanni's  soul  did,  in  truth,  realise 
the  beau  ideal  of  those  enchanting  min- 
strels of  the  "  olden  time,"  whose  songs 
immortalise  some  fancied  hero,  capable 
of  love  without  desire,  and  friendship 
excelling  even  that  disinterestedness,  in 
its  capacity  of  sacrificing  the  hopes  of 

VOL.  I.  K 


19^  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

love  to  impregnable  fidelity.  Had  the 
outward  expression  of  this  character 
been  more  marked,  or  fluently  professed 
by  him  who  bore  it,  those  who  studied 
it  might  have  believed  it  the  result  of  a 
strong  aspiration  after  excellence,  and 
consequent  victory  over  human  weak- 
ness ;  but  so  calmly  and  uniformly  did 
it  appear,  on  every  occasion,  in  Gipvanni, 
that  it  was  impossible  not  to  consider  it 
as  the  involuntary  habit  of  a  soul  ibllow- 
ing  its  own  nature,  without  resistance  or 
effort. 

Although  this  tranquil  constancy 
stamped  a  sacred  character  upon  qua- 
lities which  might  otherwise  have  seemed 
romantic,  Giovanni  was  less  likely  to 
kindle  enthusiasm  in  his  admirers,  than 
to  excite  in  them  that  still,  profound 
satisfaction,  with  which  we  contemplate 
beatified  natures. 

Even  that  which  now  constituted  his 
own  especial  gratification,  in  this  new 
bond  of  amity,  was  more  an  animating 


THE  KNIGHT  Of  ST.  JOHN.  1^6 

hope  of  benefitting  Cesario  hereafter, 
than  the  prospect  (delightful  as  it  was) 
of  solacing  himself  with  his  fraternal 
affection. 

He  foiesaw  the  near  approach  of  that 
crisis  in  Cesario's  connection  with  Sig- 
nora  Brignoletti,  when  either  his  assaulted 
principles  would  require  the  encourage- 
ment of  friendship,  to  assist  him  in  van- 
quishing strong  temptation  to  act  wron^ 
or  his  betrayed  love  demand  sympathy 
and  consolation. 

"  My  heart  shall  support  him  in  that 
trial,"  he  said  to  himself;  and  Giovanni 
soothed  his  own  prophetic  sadness  with 
this  kindly  thought. 

It  was  so  sweet  to  him,  to  witness 
every  day  the  rapid  increase  of  Cesario's 
confidence ;  and  to  observe  the  noble 
elements  of  a  character,  not  yet  reduced 
to  that  harmonious  order,  that  frame  of 
moral  beauty,  to  which  they  seemed  des- 
tined, that  he  could  have  chidden  the 
K  2 


1 96  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

favourable  gales,  now  speeding  them  on 
their  way  home. 

But  Giovanni  was  incapable  of  selfish- 
ness, even  thus  ennobled ;  and  he  turned 
with  pleasure  to  the  certainty  of  his 
friend's  honourable  welcome  from  his 
country,  after  the  acquisition  of  so  much 
renown. 

Cesario,  on  his  part,  was  never  weary 
^f  listening  to  the  wide-reaching  conver- 
sation of  his  friend.  His  own  habits  had 
been  more  active  than  studious;  and 
though  he  knew  the  histories  of  past 
ages,  he  rather  remembered  than  re- 
flected on  them. 

Giovanni's  remarks  taught  him  that 
all  the  instruction  of  history  lies  in  the 
important  lessons  it  gives;  not  in  its 
otherwise  sterile  list  of  facts.  He  taught 
him  to  carry  every  thing  back  to  his 
own  heart,  and  his  own  conduct ;  to  esti- 
mate men's  actions  by  their  motives ; 
and  while  observing  the  tissue  of  their 
crimes,  and  virtues,  and  inconsistencies. 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  197 

to  remark,  how  surely  they  all  tend,  in 
the  hand  of  Providence,  to  the  great 
work  of  human  improvement. 

By  directing  his  attention  to  this  ana- 
lysis of  characters  and  circumstances, 
Giovanni  shook  many  of  Cesario's  fa- 
vourite and  fostered  prejudices  :  but  he 
shook  them  with  so  gentle  a  touch,  that 
Cesario's  pride  was  not  roused  to  defend 
them;  and  thus  left  to  the  operations  of 
truth  and  tenderness,  they  were  gradu- 
ally giving  way. 

Giovanni  beheld  his  growing  influence 
with  generous  exultation :  for  he  sought 
Cesario's  happiness  ;  and  he  wisely  be- 
lieved, that  he  who  weeds  out  a  fault, 
and  plants  a  virtue  in  a  friend,  does  far 
more  for  his  comfort,  even  here,  than  he 
that  bestows  on  him  all  the  earthly  ob- 
jects of  man's  desire. 


K  3 


(     198 


CHAPTER  XL 

When  the  victorious  gallies  were  peace- 
fully moored  in  the  harbour  of  Genoa, 
Prince  Doria  procured  for  his  young 
officer,  the  public  thanks  of  the  seigniory. 

Those  thanks  were  followed,  in  private, 
by  the  offer  of  a  pecuniary  reward  in 
recompense  of  the  Capitain-Basha's  ves- 
sel. At  that  moment,  Cesario  thought 
only  of  his  father :  he  forgot  his  bondaged 
fortune;  he  forgot  even  Beatrice;  and, 
transported  with  filial  feelings,  could  only 
say,  **  A  monument  for  my  father  in  the 
cathedral  of  San  Siro  j  and  this,  and  all 
my  future  services  are  over-paid  !" 

Some  eyes  were  moist  that  looked  on 
him,  as  he  pronounced  these  words. 

The  request  was  immediately  granted; 


THE  K^fIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  199 

and  Cesario  himself  was  empowered  to  su- 
perintend its  execution.  It  was  not  the 
costly  marble  of  which  this  memorial  was 
afterwards  formed;  it  was  not  the  story  of 
Gianettino  Doria's  deliverance,  sculp- 
tured on  its  front;  it  was  not  the  actual 
banner,  then  saved  with  the  prince,  and 
now  floating  over  the  pictured  scene ;  it 
was  not  even  the  proud  distinction  of 
its  being  erected  by  the  hands  of  his 
country,  which  wrought  Cesario's  joy 
almost  to  transport.  It  was  the  consci- 
ousness that  he  had  earned  this  trophy 
with  his  blood ;  and  thus  proved  himself 
worthy  the  name  of  him  to  whom  it  was 
dedicated. 

In  this  pious  joy,  Giovanni  could  now 
mingle  his  faithful  spirit,  without  dread 
of  repulse.  When  the  monument  was 
placed  in  the  church  of  San  Siro,  Cesario, 
in  a  paroxysm  of  re-awakened  grief  and 
exultation,  ran  to  throw  himself  upon 
Giovanni's  breast. 

On  that  kindly  breast,  he  feared  not  to 
K  4 


£00  THE  KKTGHT  OF  ST.  .TOHK. 

give  those  tender  feelings  way ;  beneath- 
that  gracious  eye,  he  suffered  his  tears 
to  flow,  cease,  and  gush  again,  in  alter- 
nate gusts  of  recollected  and  present 
happiness,  of  regret  and  gratitude,  of 
pain  and  pleasure. 

Giovanni  pressed  him  in  a  strong  em- 
brace, while  silently  witnessing  these 
bui'sts  of  an  over- wrought  sensibility* 
*<  Alas,  what  materials  of  misery,  perhaps, 
are  here,'*  he  said  inwardly;  "yes: — of 
misery,  in  this  brief  world  ;  but  of  double 
felicity  in  the  world  of  spirits."  And  at 
that  thought,  the  cloud  hanging  over 
Giovanni's  heavenly  countenance  at  once 
fled. 

Cesario  recovered  from  his  stormy 
transports,  only  to  run  back  to  the  church 
of  San  Siro  ;  to  feast  his  eyes  again  with 
the  sight  of  his  father's  monument;  to 
return  once  more  to  Giovanni ;  and  to 
lose,  in  his  fraternal  sympathy,  all  re- 
membrance of  his  relationship  to  the  de- 
stroyer of  that  honoured  parent. 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  201 

Hearts  so  knit,  hearts  so  cemented ; 
Avere  they  ever  to  be  rent  asunder? 

O  frail  estate  of  man  ! 

After  the  accomplishment  of  this  sacred 
object,  Cesario  restored  himself  to  Bea- 
trice. He  had  sought  her  immediately 
on  landing  at  Genoa;  and  had  obtained, 
in  that  sudden  and  accidentally  private 
interview,  a  full  confirmation  of  what  the 
yielded  ring  had  promised. 

He  taught  her  to  consider  this  ring  as 
the  talisman  by  which  his  late  achieve- 
ment had  been  operated :  as  such,  she 
heard  with  increased  joy  of  the  honours 
awarded  him  by  the  seigniory ;  and  though 
she  sometimes  upbraided  him,  with  sweet 
injustice,  for  devoting  nearly  all  his 
hours  to  urge  the  completion  of  his 
father's  memorial,  her  anger  never  out- 
lasted the  first  kiss  which  he  printed  on 
her  willing  hand. 

Cesario  was  now  hurrying  along  a  swift 
stream  of  transport,  that,  by  its  rapidity, 
Jeft  him  not  time  to  look  steadily  on  the 
K  5 


202  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

brilliant  objects  past  which  it  was  sweep- 
ing; nor  to  think  of  the  frightful  regions 
into  which  it  might  eventually  bear  him. 
He  was  sensible  but  to  present  felicity ; 
and,  far  from  the  horrid  images  of  guilt 
and  self-reproach,  dreamt  not,  that  even 
the  tide  of  happiness,  when  not  watched 
in  its  flow,  may  glide  at  last  into  their 
gloomy  confines. 

The  cold  salutations  of  the  March esa 
had  no  longer  power  to  chill  his  hopes : 
he  followed  Beatrice  like  her  shadow ; 
and  as  she  scarcely  endeavoured  to  veil 
her  partiality  for  one  whom  a  brilliant 
action  covered  with  glory,  even  the  re- 
straints and  the  distractions  of  large  so- 
cieties did  but  feebly  shade  the  lustre  of 
his  enjoyments* 

The  mountain-hut  was  forgotten  :  Bea- 
trice sparkled  brightest  in  the  brightest 
scenes  :  her  gay  caprices  charmingly  va- 
ried the  settled  forms  of  a  life  of  repre- 
sentation ;  and  what  would  elicit  these  in 
the  calm  of  retirement  ? 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  203 

Cesario  began  to  covet  honours  and 
rewards  for  the  sake  of  her,  whose  habits 
made  riches,  or  at  least  distinction,  neces- 
sary. He  therefore  panted  impatiently 
for  another  opportunity  of  deserving  and 
winning  both. 

Though  loving  w^ith  all  the  ardour  of  a 
first  passion,  he  retained  sufficient  reason- 
ableness to  see  the  folly  of  seeking  the 
Marchesa  Brignoletti's  consent  to  his 
union  with  her  daughter.  At  present,  the 
celebrity  of  his  name  was  but  just  rising 
above  the  ruins  of  his  father's  fortune : 
the  former  was  yet  to  be  extended ;  the 
latter,  to  be  new  made :  then,  and  not 
till  then,  could  he  venture  to  express  his 
wishes. 

Cesario  submitted  to  this  necessity, 
but  he  abhorred  the  thought  of  shroud- 
ing his  attachment  by  any  artifice.  Too 
honest,  and  too  proud,  to  purchase  the 
Marchesa's  forbearance  by  the  sacrifice 
of  self-esteem,  he  left  the  secret  of  his 
K  6 


^04  THE  KNIG«T  OF  ST.  JOHN* 

heart  free  to  shine  out  on  his  counte- 
nance and  in  his  actions. 

This  principle,  very  early  avowed  to 
Beatrice,  checked  her  from  uttering  a 
different  one ;  and  she  therefore  contented 
herself  with  smiling  her  sanction  to  the 
candour  of  her  lover,  while  she  cunningly 
rendered  the  light  veil  of  her  own  heart 
a  little  less  transparent. 

Beatrice  well  knew  that  her  mother's 
smothered  suspicion  of  Cesario's  atten- 
tions, before  he  went  to  sea,  would  now 
break  out  in  peremptory  commands,  un- 
less some  adroit  stratagems  were  used  to 
lull  her  alarm. 

She  had  not  courage  to  confess  her 
attachment ;  much  less  her  determina- 
tion to  abide  by  it :  besides,  since  she  had 
wrested  the  avowal  of  his  passion  from 
him,  she  felt  the  very  opposite  of  a  desire 
to  run  into  a  desert  with  him. 

Though  she  loved  Cesario,  she  loved 
pleasure  also;  and  half  her  heart's  joy 
consisted  in  seeing  him  slight  every  other 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  205 

beauty  for  her  sake.  There  were  many 
beauties,  whose  advances  Cesario  abso- 
lutely shunned.  All  this*  triumph  would 
cease  in  the  mountain-hut :  it  was  there- 
fore her  policy  to  wait  the  turns  of  ac- 
cident, and  meanwhile  parry  her  mother's 
suspicions. 

To  effect  this,  Beatrice  affected  entire 
confidence  in  her  mother ;  raUied  herself, 
w^ith  great  spirit,  upon  her  evident  con- 
quest of  so  exalted  a  personage  as  the 
ruined  son  of  Francisco  Adimari;  sported 
with  the  details  of  his  tender  speeches 

^nd  jealous  looks;  and,  in  fine,  perfectly 
succeeded  in  making  her  mother  believe, 

^  that  she  despised  the  lover,  while  she 
liked  the  love  ^  and  that  a  little  vanity, 
and  a  little  mischief,  were  her  only  sti- 
mulants. 

Beatrice,  in  reality,  was  amused  by  the 
success  of  her  scheme  ;  and,  hurrying 
over  tlie  question  of  its  morality,  she 
found  in  it  as  much  food  for  mirtlr  as 
iihelter  for  inclination. 


^06  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

Cesario,  unsuspicious  of  any  under- 
plot,  saw  things  just  as  they  seemed: 
and,  perhaps,  too  happy  for  reflection 
upon  his  happiness,  might  never  have 
observed  the  relaxed  brow  of  the  Mar- 
chesa,  had  not  his  friend  Giovanni  gently 
hinted  at  her  future  prohibition  of  his 
visits. 

Then  it  was  that  Cesario  first  remarked 
the  tranquillity  with  which  she  now  saw 
his  passion  for  her  daughter  ;  and  catch- 
ing  fire  at  the  thought,  his  hopes  blazed 
forth  at  once  into  certainty. 

Surely  this  quiescence  was  a  tacit  per- 
mission to  win  Beatrice  by  noble  exploits! 
He  was  yet  but  entering  the  road  of 
honour,  it  is  true,  and  had  fortune  to 
retrieve  ;  but  the  blood  of  kings  and 
princes  filled  his  veins,  rendering  it  more 
than  worthy  to  mingle  with  that  of  the 
Brignoletti. 

The  Marchesa  must  know  that  his 
ancestors  were  sovereigns  where  he  now 
possessed  not  a  rood  of  land  j  holding  the 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  20? 

title  of  Counts  of  Genoa  for  more  than 
three  centuries.  She  must  know,  that 
they  claimed  kindred  with  the  illustrious 
Pepin,  by  whom  their  jurisdiction  was 
bestowed  j  and  that,  although  sunk  to 
absolute  poverty  in  their  solitary  repre- 
sentative, remembrance  of  his  family  was 
still  coupled,  in  the  minds  oi'  men,  with 
ideas  of  magnificence  and  power. 

Giovanni  listened  to  the  visionary 
transport  of  his  friend  with  painful  scep- 
ticism. The  Marchesa  was  not  likely  to 
be  thus  actuated  by  the  mere  shadows  of 
precious  things,  when  their  realities  might 
be  offered  to  her  daughter  by  more  for- 
tunate rivals.  Yet  such  romance  was 
possible ;  or  rather  it  was  possible  that 
an  excess  of  maternal  fondness  might  in- 
duce her  to  sacrifice  her  own  wish  of  an 
equal  alliance  for  her  daughter,  to  that 
daughter's  peculiar  happiness. 

Giovanni  wished  this  might  prove  the 
case,  but  he  ventured  not  to  hope  it ; 
yet  too  tender  for  the  severest  office  of 


S08  THE  KNtGHT  OF  ST.  JOMK* 

friendship,  he  contented  himself  witii 
turning  the  projects  of  Cesario's  love  to- 
wards the  interests  of  his  glory. 

After  signalising  himself  in  the  de- 
fence of  his  country  and  the  protection 
of  Christendom,  should  this  cherished 
friend  be  disappointed  of  the  lovely  re- 
ward which  now  animated  him,  still  there 
would  remain  for  him  the  substantial  pos- 
sessions of  an  honourable  reputation,  re- 
vived fortunes,  and  the  consciousness  of 
high  desert. 

In  Giovanni's  estimation,  these  bless- 
ings, with  friendship  added,  included  all 
that  life  had  of  desirable  and  noble;  and 
while  he  contemplated  the  possibility  of 
disappointment  to  his  friend's  passion,  he 
believed  that  such  a  catastrophe  would 
eventually  lead  that  ardent  soul,  as  it  had 
impelled  his  own,  to  fix  upon  great  and 
imperishable  objects  alone. 

Beatrice  was  yet  personally  unknown 
to  Giovanni ;  for  the  latter  found  much 
to  occupy  his  time  after  his  return  home, 
13 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  209 

and  the  former  had  little  inclination  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  one  whom  she 
persisted  in  imagining  disagreeable,  be- 
cause he  had  once  been  almost  a  monk, 
and  was,  even  now,  resolved  never  to 
marry. 

In  truth,  Beatrice  generally  felt  pretty 
accurately  upon  most  subjects  without 
the  trouble  of  reasoning  :  and,  though 
quite  unreflecting  upon  her  own  conduct, 
seemed  to  know  by  intuition  that  her 
lover's  friend  would  scrutinise  and  con- 
demn what  that  dazzled  lover  admired. 

Giovanni  might  detect  her  subtle  game 
with  the  Marchesa ;  and  if  once  he  di- 
rected Cesario*s  eyes  to  the  fact,  she  felt 
certain  that  her  humiliation  in  her  lover's 
opinion  would  be  the  immediate  conse- 
quence. 

Beatrice  was  yet  too  unpractised  to 
have  divined  the  baneful  secret  of  making 
an  excess  of  love  her  apology  for  every 
violation  of  dignity  or  morality :  a  secret, 
it  is  said,  by  which  the  loftiest  manly 


210  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

character  is  bent  to  the  most  degrading 
connections. 

She  knew  that  Cesario's  censure  would 
overwhelm  her  with  shame  ;  and  she 
therefore  studiously  avoided  the  person 
whose  discernment  and  austere  principles 
threatened  her  little  artifices  with  de- 
struction. 

Under  these  impressions,  Beatrice 
evaded  Giovanni*s  introduction  j  and  she 
did  this  the  more  easily  from  his  frequent 
absences. 

He  was  desirous  of  providing  for  the 
shelter  and  refreshment  of  the  humbler 
order  of  travellers  among  the  wild  moun- 
tains leading  into  Lombardy ;  and  for 
this  purpose  he  promoted  and  superin- 
tended the  erection  of  several  small 
buildings,  where  both  rest  and  refresh- 
ment were  to  be  furnished  at  his  expense. 

Another  occupation,  equally  benevo- 
lent in  its  object,  but  visionary  in  its 
hopes,  withdrew  him  yet  more  from  so- 
ciety ;  stole  him  from  his  sleep,  his  food. 


TH£  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  211 

his  exercise,  and  rendered  all  things  in- 
different to  him,  excepting  the  company 
of  Cesario. 

This  occupation  was  the  study  of  the 
Genoese  laws ;  and  the  object  he  sought 
to  gain  was  the  reversal  of  that  sentence 
by  which  he  possessed  the  estate  ©f  Adi- 
mari. 

Ere  he  embraced  the  profession  of 
knighthood,  Giovanni,  in  common  with 
every  other  Genoese  youth,  had  devoted 
much  attention  to  legal  studies :  it  was 
the  regular  course  in  educating  persons 
destined  from  their  birth  to  contend  for 
the  highest  offices  in  the  republic. 

He  now  returned  to  these  studies  with 
a  zest  they  had  not  before ;  fondly  be- 
lieving he  should  find  some  forgotten 
statute  or  precedent  which  might  warrant 
him  in  agitating  a  new  process,  and 
finally  restore  to  Cesario  the  home  of  his 
ancestors. 

Surrounded  by  books  and  parchments, 
all  speaking  the  same  tasteless  language. 


^1^  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

Giovanni  was  so  often  found  by  his 
friend,  that  the  latter  could  not  forbear 
rallying  him  on  the  sterile  road  his  am- 
bition had  now  chosen.  Giovanni  would 
only  smile,  too  happy  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  seeking  Cesario's  benefit,  and  not 
those  civic  honours  of  which  he  believed 
himself  as  yet  unworthy  ;  and  for  which, 
indeed,  neither  his  habits  nor  inclinations 
fitted  him. 

His  track,  could  he  now  have  chosen 
it,  would  have  been  the  one  his  father 
had  withdrawn  him  from  :  it  would  have 
been  that  of  arms,  pursued  in  the  name 
and  for  the  interests  of  religion.  But  as 
it  was,  with  particular  duties  to  fulfil, 
and  private  friendship  to  gratify,  he  was 
content  to  consider  the  situation  of  an 
active  citizen  as  that  for  which  Provi- 
dence had  ordained  him  ;  and  to  go  on 
in  it  content  and  cheerful. 

Occupied  as  he  was  by  his  buildings 
and  his  application  to  law-books,  Gio- 
vanni w^as  too  anxious  to  study  the  cha* 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  213 

racter  of  a  woman  on  whom  Cesario's 
peace  depended,  not  to  remark  with  con- 
siderable mortification  that  every  arrange- 
ment for  his  visiting  at  the  Palazzo  Rosso 
was  continually  frustrated  by  her  frivolous 
excuses. 

Far  from  guessing  the  real  reason  — 
her  awe  of,  and  distaste  to  his  character, — 
he  concluded  she  must  be  of  a  jealous 
disposition ;  and  that  even  friendship  was 
in  her  eyes  a  treachery  to  love. 

Sometimes  this  conjecture  made  him 
uneasy  at  the  effect  of  her  influence  over 
the  heart  she  would  rule  so  exclusively ; 
but  the  apprehension  lasted  not  a  mo- 
ment :  Cesario's  speaking  countenance, 
whatever  else  it  expressed  of  sadness  or 
of  joy  unconnected  with  Giovanni,  was 
still  expressive  of  grateful,  spontaneous, 
fraternal  affection. 

Still,  with  Giovanni  only,  did  he  talk 
of  his  father  and  his  boyish  days :  still, 
with  him  only,  did  he  give  voice  to  the 
day-dreams  of  a  youthful  soul,  animated 


^14  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

by  the  emulation  of  every  thing  noble, 
every  thing  praiseworthy  ;  animated  too 
by  love. 

It  is  only  when  our  hearts  thus  think 
aloud  in  the  presence  of  another,  that  we 
have  found  a  friend ;  that  noble  abandon- 
ment is  the  pledge  of  mutual  faith. 

Since  their  interchange  of  vows  on  the 
deck  of  the  San  Lorenzo,  Cesario  and 
Giovanni  had  opened  to  each  otiier  the 
inmost  recesses  of  their  souls  ;  they  had 
led  each  other  back  from  the  full  stream 
of  their  present  friendship  to  its  hidden 
sources. 

In  their  mutual  confessions,  each  found 
more  to  esteem  in  the  character  of  the 
other :  Cesario  reproached  his  own  proud 
prejudices,  which  had  ui'ged  him  so  often 
to  repulse  with  bitterness  the  gentle  na- 
ture that  approached  him  so  amiably; 
and  Giovanni  taxed  himself  with  injustice 
because  he  had  not  divined  what  it  cost 
Cesario  to  treat  him  with  ferocity. 

Thus  each  saw  more  to  prize  in  his 


THE  KKIOHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  215 

friend,  and  more  to  repent  of  in  himself ; 
consequently,  the  wish  of  repairing  in- 
justice gave  fresh  energy  to  the  impulse 
of  inclination. 

It  was  no  longer  bitterness  for  Cesario 
to  re-tread  his  father's  steps  on  the  ter- 
race at  the  Marino,  or  to  sit  in  the  seat 
he  used  to  love,  under  the  old  cedar ; 
tliis  beloved  spot  was  indeed  no  longer 
his,  but  it  was  the  property  of  one  who 
grieved  over  its  possession ;  who  reve- 
renced every  memorial  of  the  sacred 
dead  ;  and  who,  v/hile  apologising  for  his 
unwilling  detention  of  a  place  so  dear, 
by  degrees  convinced  Cesario  that  justice 
attached  it  to  the  Cigala  property. 

Cesario  ceased,  therefore,  to  consider 
the  subject  with  acrimony :  it  was  only 
when  he  thought  his  father's  life  had 
fallen  a  sacrifice  to  this  hardly-enforced 
right,  that  he  felt  all  his  former  passions 
rekindle. 

At  first,  Giovanni  pressed  on  him  the 
occupation  of  this  endeared  villa;  but 


S16  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

Cesario  could  not  forget  that  it  was  the 
son  of  Paulo  Cigala  who  would  thus  lend 
him  what  had  once  been  his  own,  and 
he  refused  it  with  impetuosity ;  the  next 
instant  he  softened  his  refusal  by  a  look 
that  spoke  volumes  ;  and  by  the  pro- 
mise of  using  the  Marino  as  if  it  were 
still  his  home. 

Giovanni  pardoned  him  this  imperfec- 
tion of  friendship  ;  and  serenely  waiting 
the  effects  of  time  and  increased  con- 
fidence, forbore  to  hint  to  him  what  he 
longed  to  urge  —  an  equal  participation 
in  each  other's  fortunes. 

Giovanni  could  not  resign  his  kindred's 
right  to  the  Marino  ;  nor  would  he  aban- 
don it  to  the  possession  of  any  one  less 
anxious  than  himself,  to  preserve  it  in  its 
original  beauty ;  but  he  abhorred  the 
thought  of  appropriating  the  liberal  re- 
turns of  this  estate  to  the  purposes  of  his 
own  establishment :  he  therefore  devoted 
them  exclusively  to  acts  of  charity. 

Through  the  medium  of  the  Redemp- 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN'.  217 

tion  Friars,  the  rents  of  the  Marino  were 
employed  in  ransoming  Christian  slaves. 
Many  a  hopeless  captive,  who  had  long 
languished  under  the  tyranny  of  Algerine 
masters,  was  thus  released  from  toil  and 
suffering,  and  restored  to  his  home. 

Cesario  accidentally  discovered  this 
merciful  destination  of  wealth  which  was 
once  his  own ;  and  loving  Giovanni  the 
better  for  the  discovery,  he  no  longer 
allowed  himself  to  regret  the  loss  of  a 
fortune  which,  instead  of  increasing  the 
luxuries  of  one  individual,  bestowed  bless- 
ings upon  numbers. 

Meanwhile,  he  continued  to  reside  with 
the  good  Syndic  and  his  wife ;  content 
to  live  with  the  utmost  simplicity,  and 
entering  crowds  only  at  the  Palazzos 
Doria  and  Rosso. 

His  former  associate,  Marco  Doria, 
had  long  since  abandoned  the  falconer's 
cottage  ;  and  was  again  afloat  upon  the 
idle  currents  of  vanity  and  dissipation. 
They   met  with  the  same  cordiality  as 

VOL.   I.  L 


218  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

formerly,  though  their  companionsliip 
was  somewhat  injured  by  Cesario's  nobler 
tie  with  Giovanni,  and  yet  more,  by  a 
new  whim  of  the  Iris-humoured  Marco. 

This  absurd  young  man,  as  if  in  de- 
fiance of  his  own  capricious  character, 
had  formally  assumed  the  office  of  cices- 
beo  to  a  lady  then  newly  married :  by 
this  act  he  bound  himself  to  servitude 
without  relaxation  or  without  recom- 
pense ;  for  in  that  early  age  it  was 
neither  libertinism  which  sought,  nor 
infidelity  that  rewarded  this  irksome  en- 
gagement. It  was  simply  the  shadow  of 
what  had  once  had  form  and  substance 
in  the  days  of  chivalry. 

During  the  period  of  the  crusades,  we 
read,  that  it  was  customary  for  each  mar- 
ried wearer  of  the  Cross,  ere  he  embarked 
for  the  Holy  Land,  to  leave  his  wife 
under  the  charge  of  some  trusty  friend, 
whose  vigilant  eye  was  to  watch  over  the 
honour  and  affections  of  the  lady ;  thus 
preserving  for  the  absent  warrior  the 


THR  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  219 

treasure  of  domestic  happiness.  We  may 
thence  conclude  that  in  process  of  time 
this  chivalric  institution  softened  into  one 
less  arduous ;  and  the  friend  who  would 
formerly  have  been  called  on  to  become 
responsible  for  the  virtue  of  the  lady  in- 
trusted to  his  care,  was  only  required  to 
watch  over  her  outward  demeanour  in 
public  01  private  circles  ;  to  animate  her 
innocent  pleasures,  and  protect  her  from 
neglect  or  insult. 

At  what  time  this  harmless,  nay  kindly 
appointment  sunk  into  the  odium  it  is 
now  said  to  deserve,  it  is  impossible  to 
guess,  and  would  be  revolting  to  enquu'e  : 
suffice  it,  the  cicesbei  were  originally 
characters  of  the  noblest  class  ;  after- 
wards, of  the  most  amiable ;  now,  aJas, 
too  frequently  of  the  basest. 

The  person  to  whom  Marco  Doria  had 
engaged  himself  was  the  Signora  Calva, 
a  woman  of  honour,  but  of  more  spirit 
than  sense :  well-inclined  to  enjoy  all  the 
privileges  which  her  situation  might  give 
L  2 


220  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

her  over  the  time  and  attentions  of  an 
amusing  young  man,  and  to  laugh  at  the 
unwillingness  with  which  she  foresaw  he 
would  very  soon  render  them. 

Being  the  favourite  cousin  and  com- 
panion of  Beatrice  Brignoletti,  her  own 
natural  vivacity  was  often  heightened  into 
mischief  by  her  friend's  wilder  spirits  ; 
and  Marco  Doria's  patience  or  constancy 
was  thus  put  to  many  a  severe  test. 

The  very  act  of  accepting  Marco  as 
her  cicesbeo  had  been  a  scheme  of  mirtli 
concerted  between  Signora  Calva,  her 
bridegroom,  and  Beatrice.  They  anti- 
cipated much  entertainment  from  the 
zeal  with  which  he  would  begin  his  new 
duties,  and  the  loathing  with  which  he 
would  eventually  meet  their  perform- 
ance :  their  triumph  was  to  consist  in 
driving  him  to  the  desperate  act  of  en- 
treating for  a  release. 

The  affair  had  already  reached  its  se- 
cond stage  of  wearisomeness  to  Marco 
Poria,  when  Cesario  returned  from  sea ; 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  221 

but  whether  Marco  had  conceived  a  sus- 
picion of  colhision  amongst  the  parties, 
and  was  excited  to  disappoint  their  good- 
humoured  malice,  or  whether  he  really 
considered  adherence  to  this  engagement 
as  a  point  of  honour,  or  whether  he  sim- 
ply endeavoured  to  prove  that  he  could 
persevere  when  he  chose  to  do  so,  is 
doubtful;  but  it  is  certain  that  he  did 
persevere. 

In  vain  Signora  Calva  flew  from  town 

'  --^i._..  A^^m  rarnival  to  fair,  from 
hawkmg   to   anglmg,    trom   px^.^..-^ 

dancing  ;  in  vain  she  varied  her  humour 

from   gay   to   grave,    from    amiable   to 

austere,  from  mild  to  vindictive  :  Marco 

Doria  kept  to  his  post  j  and,  ever  at  her 

side,  performed  all  the  duties  of  a  liege 

cicesbeo,  with  apparent  satisfaction. 

The  allied  powers  were  nearly  wearied 

out  by  this  unforeseen  dissimulation;  and 

were  busily  plotting  some  ruse  dc  gicerre 

by  which  to  capture  him  at  once,  when 

one  of  their  members,  a  passive  one  in- 

L  3 


g^'2  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOttN. 

deed,  was  suddenly  detached  from  the 
confederacy.  —  Cesario  went  on  service. 

Advice  was  brought  to  Genoa,  that 
a  Barbary  cruiser  had  made  a  descent 
upon  the  coast  of  Tuscany  during  the 
night,  carried  off  several  of  the  inha- 
bitants, and  was  now^  proceeding  with 
her  prey  towards  the  Straits  of  St.  Bo- 
nifacio. 

The  horror  of  such  events  was  never 

diminished  by  their   frequency;    for  as 

every  village,  and  solit^j^^  rv,«^  ,v.^   ^^  ^^^ 
i-^^a'&i  me  Mediterranean  and  the 

Adriatic,  had  either  suffered  from  the 
fear  or  the  reality  of  such  visitations, 
during  the  last  twenty  years  ;  they  shud- 
dered, with  more  than  pity,  when  they 
heard  of  those  calamities  befalling  their 
neighbours. 

What  indeed  could  exceed  the  horror, 
of  men  being  suddenly  snatched  from 
the  bosoms  of  their  families  ;  or  what  is 
worse,  of  seeing  their  wives,  children,  and 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  228 

parents,   plunged  into  the  same  misery 
with  themselves  ? 

Neither  sex,  age,  character,  nor  con- 
dition, was  spared  by  these  ocean  robbers. 
The  great  and  the  mean,  the  rich  and  the 
poor,  were  alike  torn  without  remorse 
from  their  enjoyments  and  their  ties  j  and 
carried  into  captivity. 

But  a  few  years  had  elapsed,  since  their 
audacious  enterprises  were  on  the  point 
of  being  crowned  by  the  possession  of 
the  supreme  Pontiff  himself ;  and  as  th^s 
terrible  incident  was  fresh  in  every  mind, 
it  rendered  the  images  of  the  pirates  as 
impious  as  formidable. 

No  sooner  did  the  rumour  of  their 
present  descent  reach  Cesario,  than, 
agitated  by  compassion  for  the  poor  Tus- 
cans, excited  by  the  hope  of  regaining 
them,  and  thus  finding  glory  in  the  ser- 
vice of  Humanity,  he  ran  to  the  Prince 
of  Melfi ;  and  besought  his  interest  with 
the  Seigniory,  for  permission  to  fcdlow 
the  pirates. 

L  4 


224  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

His  earnestness,  his  former  gallant 
conduct,  the  urgency  of  the  occasion, 
and  the  strenuous  recommendation  of  the 
admiral,  prevailed  on  the  doge  and  his 
counsellors.  A  galliot  was  then  lying  in 
the  harbour,  just  returned  from  a  short 
cruise,  the  captain  of  which  was  disabled 
by  illness.  To  the  command  of  this  ves- 
sel, Cesario  was  immediately  appointed; 
and  in  less  than  four  hours  from  the  con- 
firmation of  the  report,  he  was  at  sea. 

The  pressing  nature  of  his  enterprise 
only  allowed  him  to  take  a  written  fare- 
well of  Beatrice,  and  to  leave  a  parting 
message  at  Giovanni's  door. 

That  valued  friend  was  gone  for  a  few 
days  to  his  house  beyond  Pietra  Lava- 
serra ;  little  imagining,  that  ere  he 
should  return,  Cesario  would  be  again 
seeking  honour  at  the  cannon's  mouth, 
on  the  eventful  ocean. 

It  had  been  Giovanni's  determination 
to  share  all  future  perils  with  the  man  to 
whom  he  had  consecrated  his  friendship  ; 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  225 

what  then  was  his  mortification,  to  learn 
by  the  arrival  of  a  servant,  that  Cesario's 
vessel  had  been  long  out  of  sight  ere  the 
man  left  Genoa  ;  and  that  the  galley  he 
chased,  was  commanded  by  the  desperate 
pirate  Delli  Rais ! 

Cesario,  with  all  his  bravery  and  talent, 
was  yet  but  imperfectly  versed  in  the 
subtler  part  of  a  profession,  where  skilful 
manoeuvre  so  often  baffles  the  hardiest 
spirit.  Delli  Rais,  educated  by  the  for- 
midable Dragut,  was  known  to  have  im- 
bibed, not  only  the  daring  character  of 
his  master,  but  his  keener  genius  for 
stratagem.  He  knew,  too,  every  inch  of 
coast  from  the  mouth  of  the  Nile  to 
the  Pillars  of  Hercules. 

With  such  an  adversary,  even  Cesario's 
courage  (and  it  was  that  of  a  lion)  would 
be  of  no  avail  5  unless  assisted  by  the  ex- 
perience of  practised  seamen  and  officers. 
Giovanni  rationally  concluded,  that  the 
Prince  of  Melfi  had  foreseen  and  provided 
for  this  J  and  he  strove,  therefore,  to  confine 
L  5 


226  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

his  concern  solely  to  the  regret  of  not 
sharing  danger  and  honour  with  the  friend 
he  loved. 

-  That  regret  was  indeed  deep  and  sin- 
cere ;  for  his  spirit  panted  for  action ; 
and  his  heart  sunk  at  the  prospect  of  a 
long  chasm  in  their  daily  intercour-se. 


(     227     ) 


CHAPTER  XII. 

JVl USING  over  these  things,  during  his 
return  from  a  charitable  errand,  Giovanni 
«topped  to  observe  the  effect  of  a  moon- 
light upon  the  broken  side  of  a  ruined 
chapel,  which  started  from  an  Ilex  wood 
overhanging  his  path. 

The  silvery  touches  of  that  lovely  light, 
beautifully  contrasted  with  the  deep  ver- 
dure of  the  trees ;  and  the  fresh  night 
air,  just  quivering  their  twinkling  leaves, 
seemed,  as  it  moaned  round  the  de- 
serted edifice,  to  utter  the  dirge  of  de- 
parted time. 

Giovanni  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  shat- 
tered remains  of  a  cross,  in  the  open  area 
of  the  building  :  it  was  nearly  overgrown 
with  wild  vine.  That  emblem,  so  sacred  in 
L  6 


228  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

his  estimation,  and  so  degraded,  changed 
his  thoughts  ;  and  ceasing  to  admire  the 
prospect  of  mountain,  wood,  and  dell,  he 
thought  only  of  restoring  the  temple  of 
the  Saviour  to  its  original  order. 

Though  the  ruin  was  not  on  his  do- 
main, he  was  tolerably  certain  that  no 
one  would  obstruct  him  in  the  execution 
of  so  pious  a  work  ;  and  delighting  him- 
self with  the  prospect  of  its  completion, 
Ive  was  proceeding,  with  his  sword,  to 
cut  away  the  foul  weeds  clasping  the 
cross,  when  the  shriek  of  a  woman  made 
him  start  forward,  and  look  round  for  her 
that  utered  it. 

His  astonishment  was  extreme,  when 
he  beheld  a  young  creature  in  the  dress 
of  a  novice,  but  without  her  veil,  alone, 
and  running  towards  him  with  the  air  of 
one  distracted. 

**  O,  save  me  !  sir,"  she  cried  ;  "  you 
are  a  knight — protect  me — hide  me !" — 

Misled  by  a  badge  of  the  order  to 
which  Giovanni  formerly  belonged,  and 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  229 

which  he  still  wore  in  pious  memorial, 
the  lady  almost  threw  herself  into  his 
arms,  striving  to  cover  her  face  with  his 
mantle;  Giovanni  flung  it  round  her,  and 
bore  her  into  the  chapel. 

He  then  seated  himself  by  her,  upon 
a  fragment  of  stone ;  and  as  the  pale 
moonbeam  fell  upon  her,  whitening  the 
panting  neck  and  rounded  cheek,  from 
which  terror  had  banished  colour  ;  as  its 
tremulous  light  glittered  on  the  tears  in 
her  eyes,  he  thought  he  had  rarely  seen 
any  thing  so  lovely. 

His  own  mild  eyes,  full  of  tender 
concern,  and  his  usually  composed  com- 
plexion, heightened  into  lustre  by  surprise, 
were  displayed  to  advantage  by  the  same 
soft  light.  The  novice  evidently  beheld 
them,  and  his  superb  figure,  which  the 
want  of  his  mantle  fully  discovered,  with 
wondering  admiration ;  for  she  gazed  at 
him  in  silence,  unconscious  that  he  ad- 
dressed her. 

"  ^Vhat  am  I  to  protect  you  from. 


S30  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

madam  ?"  he  asked  respectfully,  remov- 
ing his  supporting  arm  when  he  saw  her 
recovering.  —  "  Where  may  I  conduct 
you  ? — by  your  dress  ^' — He  glanced  at 
her  white  garments  and  ebon  crucifix. 

The  brightest  and  deepest  blushes 
then  overspread  the  youthful  face  of  the 
novice;  she  turned  away  in  some  con- 
fusion, faintly  repeating,  in  a  voice  be- 
tween weeping  and  smiling,  "  This  dress 
is  a  disguise  5  I  am  not  a  religious — 
I  have  been  mistaken  for  one,  and  am 
pursued  by  the  brethren  of  San  Eugenio. 

O  sir,  if  they  discover  who  I  am 

where,  where  will  you  hide  me  !'* — 

More  perplexed,  and  amazed  than  be- 
fore, Giovanni's  looks  expressed  extreme 
disturbance.  **  I  can  conceal  you  here 
for  a  while,  madam,"  he  said :  "  I  have  a 
sword,  and  will  defend  you,  with  tny 
life,  against  every  thing  but  the  au- 
thority of  the  church."  And  as  he 
spoke,  he  advanced  to  the  entrance  of 
the  chapel. 


THE  KNIGHT  OP  ST.  JOHN,  231 

A  mingled  confusion  of  laughter,  hal- 
loos,  and  expressions  of  alarm,  was  heard 
from  that  quarter  of  the  wood  whence 
the  lady  had  issued ;  and  Giovanni  dis- 
tinctly heard  a  boy's  voice  calling,  "  Sig- 
nora,  Signora !  there  is  nothing  to  fear." 

The  sound  was  speedily  followed  by 
the  appearance  of  a  motley  groupe  of 
men  and  women,  in  religious  habits, 
whose  laughing  exclamations  quickly 
brought  the  fictitious  novice  from  her 
retreat. 

A  hurry  of  embraces,  congratulations, 
reproaches,  and  interrogations,  then  fol- 
lowed, while  Giovanni  stood  clasping  his 
useless  sword  with  the  air  of  a  man 
awaking  from  a  dream.  All  he  could 
collect  from  the  scene,  w^as  that  one 
party  had  attempted  to  impose  upon  the 
other,  and  that  the  last  had  outwitted 
the  first. 

"  Do  I  leave  you  in  the  hands  you 
wish,  madam?"  asked  Giovanni,  taking 


232  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN* 

up  his  cloak  which  the  lady  had  let  fall, 
and  preparing  to  depart. 

"  O  you  must  not  leave  me,  my  pro- 
tector," she  replied,  ardently  catching 
his  arm  :  "  I  have  not  thanked  you  yet. — 
By  what  name  must  I  address  you?'* 

"  Surely  it  is  Signor  Cigala !"  said  one 
of  the  company,  coming  forward,  and 
discovering,  under  the  cowl  of  a  monk, 
the  piquant  countenance  of  Marco 
Doria. 

"Cigala! — the  friend  of  Cesario  !'* 
repeated  the  lady  with  animation. — 
"  Ah  Signor !  then  you  must  not  go."' 

Giovanni  looked  at  her  while  she 
spoke ;  and  the  moonlight  now  showed 
that  lately-pale  face,  sparkling  with  colour 
and  joy.  He  could  not  mistake  that 
rayonante  complexion  which  his  friend 
had  so  often  described :  **  The  Signora 
Brignoletti !"  he  repeated,  and  respect- 
fully kissed  her  extended  hand. 

Her  spirits,  the  distant  place  in  which 
they  met,  and  the  childish  trick  which 
13 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  Q33 

had  caused  their  meeting,  convinced 
Giovanni  that  Beatrice  was  yet  ignorant 
of  her  lover's  departure  from  Genoa; 
and  at  this  thought  he  fixed  his  eyes  on 
her  with  a  look  of  tender  commiseration. 

Beatrice  was  not  very  able  in  the 
knowledge  of  countenance,^ and  she  mis- 
took that  expr*ission  for  one  of  pure 
admiration.  '*  This  is  the  man  who  fore- 
swears the  power  of  beauty,"  she  said  to 
herself;  and,  from  that  instant,  she  forgot 
he  was  also  the  friend  of  her  lover. 

The  Signora  Calva's  request,  that 
Giovanni  would  return  with  them  to 
his  casino,  was  seconded  with  much  cor- 
diality by  ^larco  Doria,  and  with  more 
earnestness  by  Beatrice.  Uneasily  anxious 
to  see  her  character  closer,  he  yielded 
immediate  consent ;  and  the  lively  party 
proceeded  down  the  mountain. 

During  their  walk  homewards,  and  it 
was  not  a  short  one,  the  mystery  of  their 
disguises  was  explained  to  him :  he 
leanie^  that  a  trick  had  been  devised 


^34  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

between  Signora  Calva  and  Beatrice,  by 
which  they  hoped  to  seduce  Marco  Do- 
ria  from  his  duty  to  the  former:  —  a 
pretty  page  belonging  to  the  latter  was 
dressed  in  the  habit  of  a  novice,  and  in- 
structed in  a  tale  of  parental  tyranny, 
likely  to  enlist  Marco's  knight-errantry 
on  her  side  :  the  boy's^^fFeminate  beauty 
and  well- taught  flatteries,  were  expected 
to  work  upon  his  susceptibility,  or  va- 
nity 5  and  as  this  pretended  novice's 
task  was  to  get  him  to  elope  with  her 
from  the  pursuit  of  her  relations,  &c.  it 
was  hoped  that  Marco  would  fall  into 
the  snare,  and  thus  leave  the  field  to  the 
conquerors  of  his  constancy.  Beatrice, 
in  the  character  of  a  sister-novice,  could 
not  refuse  herself  the  imprudent  amuse- 
ment of  witnessing  Marco's  delusion. 
The  scheme  was  admirably  planned,  they 
thought;  for  Marco  accompanied  the 
Signora  Calva  and  her  husband  to  their 
country-house,  unconscious  that  Beatrice 
was  concealed  in  it ;  and  that  the  tender 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  ^85 

billet  he  received  the  next  day,  appoint- 
ing an  interview  that  night,  was  written 
by  her  pen. 

But  unfortunately  for  the  conspiring 
ladies,  Signor  Calva,  with  true  esprit  de 
corps,  felt  reluctant  to  cover  one  of  his 
own  majestic  sex  with  shame  and  ridi- 
cule;  so,  counterplotting  his  wife  and 
her  friend,  he  concerted  with  Marco  the 
merry  revenge  of  allowing  the  two  no- 
virp<!  K^  ^^p-i--,  :«  ^11  the  pomp  of  their 
vestal  veils,  to  the  appointed  spot,  and 
then  to  rush  on  them  in  the  character  of 
monks. 

Tlie  terror  of  public  exposure  and 
spiritual  censure,  fully  revenged  Marco; 
for  the  poor  page  actually  fainted  away 
at  the  sight  of  such  a  crowd  of  ecclesi- 
astics, (as  Signor  Calva  had  strengthened 
his  party  by  servants,)  and  Beatrice  flew, 
in  terror,  she  knew  not  whither. 

Some  reproaches,  but  more  lively  sal- 
lies, were  mutually  exchanged  5  after 
which,  the  tie  between  Marco  and  the 


£36  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN, 

family  of  Signor  Calva  was  amicably  dis- 
solved, and  the  former  left  free  to  follow 
his  own  caprices. 

Meanwhile  many  a  courteous  speech 
and  Euphrosyne  glance  from  Beatrice 
tried  to  soften  the  severity  with  which 
Giovanni  felt  inclined  to  consider  her 
share  in  the  transaction.  He  liked  not 
the  levity  of  a  temper  so  eager  for 
amusement;  it  seemed  to  him,  that  a 
heart  occupied  hy  '^no  pi-wworfnl  senti- 
ment, and  that  too  clouded  by  apprehen- 
sion, should  have  no  room  for  childish 
mirth. 

Ought  any  thing  to  delight,  ought  any 
thing  to  be  sought  with  avidity  uncon- 
nected with  the  object  dearest  in  life? 
Giovanni  remembered  the  days  of  love 
with  himself,  and  answered  no. 

It  was  not  that  he  doubted  the  since- 
rity of  Beatrice's  attachment ;  he  quar- 
relled only  with  its  nature.  'Twas  such 
as  might  content  a  common  mind,  be- 
cause to  such  it  would  fully  reply ;  but 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  237 

iiow   was   it   to  satisfy  such  a  heart  as 
Cesario's  ? 

Where  was  that  exclusive,  concentrated 
ardour,  that  indifference  to  all,  beyond 
duties  and  honourable  affections  ?  Where 
was  that  deep  tenderness,  almost  amount- 
ing to  melancholy  ;  that  existence  but  in 
the  presence,  or  in  the  praise  of  its  ob- 
ject, which  should  have  kept  Beatrice 
from  leaving  Genoa  and  Cesario,  merely 
to  indulge  a  girlish  caprice?  In  short, 
where  was  that  vital  glow  of  perfect  sym- 
pathy, which  would  preseve  their  attach- 
ment, after  youth  and  beauty  was  gone  ? 

Giovanni  often  looked  at  his  fair  com- 
panion, involuntarily  looked  at  her,  and 
sighed,  as  these  reflections  passed  through 
his  mind  ;  and  at  those  times  her  bright- 
ened eyes  and  complexion  made  his 
heart  smite  him. 

Why  should  his  observation  please  her, 
unless  from  his  association  with  the 
image  of  Cesario?  —  **  I  judge  women 
like  a  monk !"  he  said  to  himself,  **  and, 


^38  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.JOHP** 

perhaps,  like  an  enemy  :  that  is  unjust — 
I  will  study  her  more  closely  5"  — and, 
from  that  moment,  he  attached  himself 
to  her  side. 

The  Signora  Calva  received  the  mot- 
ley groupe  with  just  as  much  participa- 
tion with  their  merriment,  as  sat  well 
upon  a  married  woman :  a  collation  of 
fruits  and  ices  refreshed  them  after  their 
adventures  5  and  Giovanni  had,  then, 
ample  opportunity  of  seeing  every  indi- 
vidual in  their  genuine  character. 

Mirth  banished  ceremony  ;  their  plot 
and  counterplot  were  amply  discussed,  and 
laughed  over :  they  rallied  each  other  on 
tbeir  several  follies  with  as  much  point 
as  good-humour ;  and  a  whimsical  de- 
bate, in  which  the  whole  company  joined, 
was  ended  only  by  a  display  of  Signora 
Brignoletti's  peculiar  talent. 

The  question  agitated  was,  in  what 
pursuit  the  greatest  proportion  of  human 
happiness  is  to  be  found  ? 

One  person  named  ambition,  another 
14 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  239 

social  pleasures,  a  tliird  study,  a  fourth 
the  fine  arts,  &c. :  when  Beatrice  was 
asked,  she  gaily  snatched  up  her  lute, 
and  bending  over  it  for  a  few  seconds  in 
silence,  burst  into  an  extempore  declara- 
tion in  favour  of  love. 

The  sportive  glance  with  'which  she 
first  took  the  instrument,  was  succeeded 
by  a  look  of  brief  but  intense  thought ; 
the  next  instant,  a  bright  illumination  of 
intelligence  and  emotion  spread  over  her 
face,  while,  with  the  voice  and  air  of  in- 
spiration, she  chanted  this  momentary 
rhapsody  :  — 

O  !  it  is  sweet,  on  one  alone, 
In  waking  dreams  to  muse  away 
The  hours  of  night,  the  hours  of  day ; 
And  as  the  tide  of  time  is  flowing, 
To  see  but  one  reflection  glowing 

On  its  clear  glass  ! 
What  matters  then,  the  moments  gone. 

Since  others  pass  ? 

Yes,  through  that  stream,  so  clear,  so  deep. 
In  beauty  €ver-brightening,  rises 
The  form  our  soul  enamoured  priates ; 


240  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

Each  tender  charm  again  repeating, 
Still,  still  renewed,  though  ever  fleeting, 

Wave  follows  wave, 
While  trancing  echoes  o'er  them  sweep, 

From  Memory's  cave. 

Then  shall  we  scale  the  rocks  of  power. 

Or  colder  study's  stormy  height. 

Or  weave  the  flowerets,  fair  as  slight, 

Of  pleasures  vain  and  unabiding  ? — 

No — still  where  Time's  full  stream  is  gliding 

Through  Love's  green  bower, 

With  thrilling  heart  and  tranced  eye, 
There  let  me  live — I  ask  no  more  — 

There  let  me  die ! 

WTien  Beatrice  concluded,  the  bright- 
est colours  of  the  seducing  passion  she 
sung,  painted  her  cheek  ;  and  an  expres- 
sion, at  once  intoxicating  and  embarrass- 
ing, thrilled  from  her  kindled  eyes.  Gio- 
vanni turned  away  his  from  their  scarcely- 
encountered  glance.  There  w  as  nothing 
in  her  impromptu  to  find  a  tangible  fault 
with  ;  yet  he  liked  not  the  subject,  sung 
with  such  enthusiasm  by  a  woman. 

Love,  chaste,  regulated  love  ;  devoted 
to  one  deserving  object,  is  natural  and 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  2il 

honourable  in  that  tender  sex,  which 
Providence  has  destined  to  bless  the 
home  of  man :  but  it  is  as  natural  for 
woman  to  blush  at  the  avowal  of  the 
sentiment,  as  to  feel  it ;  and  she  who 
can  discourse  on  it  with  the  least  restraint, 
and  the  greatest  energy,  is  precisely  sTie 
with  whom  it  is  rarely  but  a  gust  of  pas- 
sion : —  so  true  is  it,  that  "love  burns 
the  brightest  in  the  purest  breast." 

Giovanni  made  no  audible  remark 
upon  the  song  of  the  fair  Improvisatrice, 
though  all  around  him  were  clamorous 
in  its  praise  :  he  sat  silent,  disturbed  and 
meditative,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
ground. 

Beatrice  saw  that  she  had  agitated 
him  ;  how,  she  guessed  not :  —  very  dif- 
ferent were  the  feelings  she  vainly  at- 
tributed to  that  spotless  heart,  from  what 
feally  worked  there. 

After  a  long  and  uneasy  reverie,  Gio- 
vanni rose,  and  said  good  night  to  the 
company,  leaving  Beatrice  still  in  igno- 

VOL.  I.  M 


242  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

ranee  of  Cesario's  absence.  He  departed, 
carrying  with  him  a  painful  doubt  of  her 
substantial  worth.  "  The  woman  that 
has  not  modesty,"  he  thought,  "  is  des- 
titute of  virtue's  strongest  out- work.'* 

That  she  was  charming,  bewitching, 
infatuating,  he  acknowledged ;  but  it  was 
witchery,  she  unconsciously  exerted;  it 
was  infatuation,  she  excited;  it  was  some- 
thing, which  fled  the  glance  of  reason. 

Levity  of  disposition,  indiscretion  of 
conduct,  and  instability  of  taste,  appeared 
to  him  visible  in  all  her  words  and  ac- 
tions. It  was  a  character,  innocent  per- 
haps, but  not  principled ;  one  that  might 
have  been  moulded  to  good,  by  judicious 
restraint,  and  consistent  example  in  child- 
hood ;  but  which,  left  to  the  accidents  of 
rank,  and  her  own  humour,  by  feeble- 
minded relatives,  was  fast  verging  to- 
wards evil. 

Giovanni  thought  it  was  possible  to 
save  this  almost-interesting  young  crea- 
ture   from    the    moral    alteration    that 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN'.  ^243 

threatened  her ;  and  thus  reconciled  to 
the  sudden  departure  of  Cesario,  he  re- 
solved to  devote  the  period  of  his  absence 
to  the  endeavour  of  rendering  his  mis- 
tress more  worthy  of  him. 

Very  different  was  the  state  of  Bea- 
trice's mind,  at  the  same  period:  all 
there  was  delighted  confusion.  A  mul- 
titude of  indistinct  images,  as  bright  as 
fleeting,  appeared  to  her  successively. 
Now  it  was  Giovanni,  subdued  by  her 
charms;  struggling  between  love  and 
friendship;  while  she  nobly  preserved 
her  faith,  and  bestowed  her  hand  on 
Cesario:  then  it  was  the  sam€  Giovanni, 
driven  to  distraction  by  her  rigour  ;  and, 
either  roving  among  savage  solitudes,  a 
maniac  for  her  sake,  or  dying  in  some 
distant  cell,  a  martyr  to  that  love  which 
not  even  the  gloom  of  a  cloister  could 
extinguish. 

Then  the  picture  changed;    and  for  a 
moment  she  fancied   Cesario  forgotten; 
and  herself  at  the  bridal  altar  with  the 
M  2 


244  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

once-famed  Knight  of  St.  John,  whom 
every  female  eye  must  admire,  and  every 
female  heart  covet! 

Her  heart  beat  quick  at  this  imagina- 
tion 5  and  it  was  hard  to  say,  whether  its 
pulsation  was  more  increased  by  plea- 
sure or  by  self-condemnation.  But,  ac^ 
customed  to  discard  every  unpleasing 
thought  as  it  arose,  Beatrice  shifted  the 
the  picture  and  the  feeling,  hurrying 
from  the  uncertain  future  to  the  agree^ 
able  present. 

Again  and  again  she  compared  the  ex- 
terior of  the  two  friends ;  and,  as  she  did 
so,  wondered  that  she  had  considered  Ce- 
sario's  as  the  perfection  of  manly  beauty. 

It  is  true,  his  figure  was  agile  and 
finely -turned ;  abounding  in  those  svelte 
and  light  movements,  which  display 
grace  and  denote  activity :  it  was  such  as 
we  imagine  in  the  messenger  of  the  gods. 

But  Giovanni  might  have  passed  for 
one  of  the  gods  themselves.  His  were 
the   sublime   proportions,    and  sublimef 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  245 

grace  of  the  matured  Apollo:  and  if 
Cesario's  countenance,  interested  by  the 
incessant  play  of  passions  which  appeared 
in  its  clouds  and  sunshine,  expressing 
alternately  the  weakness,  the  struggles, 
and  the  hard-earned  victories  of  huma- 
nity; Giovanni's,  elevated  by  that  divine 
expression  of  serenity  and  greatness 
which  rose  above  every  other,  and  pro- 
claimed the  immortal. 

In  short,  Beatrice  was  struck  by  that 
singular  mixture  of  the  powerful  and  the 
peaceful,  the  mild  and  the  commanding, 
which  distinguished  Giovanni  from  all 
his  kind:  and, perhaps,  the  proud  thought 
of  troubling  that  superb  calm  of  counte- 
nance and  of  character,  was  the  source 
of  an  inclination,  which,  she  afterwards 
believed,  sprung  solely  from  admiration 
of  this  noble  superiority. 

Much  of  vanity,  more  of  roving  ima- 
gination, and  still  more  of  habitual  self- 
indulgence,  had  in  less  than  three  hours 
turned  the  current  of  her  desires  into  a 
M  S 


2i6  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

new  channel;  and  perceiving  nothing 
distinctly,  because  she  would  not  look  at 
any  thing  steadily,  she  was  now  com- 
mencing a  career  of  dishonourable  incon- 
stancy. 

In  his  road  to  Genoa  the  ensuing  day, 
Giovanni  called  at  the  house  of  Signor 
Calva,  to  thank  him  for  his  hospitality  of 
the  foregoing  evening,  and  to  acquaint 
Signora  Brignoletti  of  Cesario's  cruize. 

As  he  passed  an  orange-grove  in  the 
garden,  he  saw  her  alone,  collecting  its 
scattered  blossoms:  she  dropt  her  fra- 
grant spoils  through  haste  to  meet  him. 

Solicitude  to  please  one,  whose  dignity 
awed  her,  now  tempered  her  excessive 
vivacity;  and  Giovanni,  after  a  short 
dialogue,  began  to  think  her  character 
less  volatile  than  her  manner. 

He  sat  down  by  her,  under  one  of  the 
orange-trees,  while  asking  her  commands 
for  Genoa. 

<*  You  may  carry  this  flower  from  me 
to  your  friend,  if  you   will,"  she  said. 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  54«7 

blushing  with  pretty  coquetiy,  and  ex- 
pecting him  to  look,  at  least,  a  desire  of 
keeping  it  for  himself. 

But  Giovanni,  not  liking  her  manner, 
gravely  put  it  by  with  his  hand,  answer- 
ing, that  he  believed  his  friend  was  now 
seeking  a  nobler  reward  on  the  ocean. 

A  start,  an  exclamation,  almost  a  shriek 
from  Beatrice,  whose  conscience  smote 
her  for  the  reveries  of  the  past  night, 
made  Giovanni's  air  change  from  auste- 
rity to  tenderness:  he  looked  kindly  on 
her  while  he  explained  the  nature  of 
Cesario*s  enterprise  ;  and  extolled,  not 
merely  his  bravery,  but  his  humanity  in 
this  voluntary  cruise. 

Beatrice  wept  with  the  impetuosity  of 
a  child :  at  every  pause  in  her  gust  of 
grief,  enumerating  the  dangers  that  me- 
naced Cesario,  and  condemning  herself 
lor  this  foolish  visit  to  Signora  Calva, 
since  it  had  prevented  her  from  receiving 
his  perhaps  last  farewell ! 

Giovanni  comforted  her  by  every  ar- 
M  4 


'248      '    THE    KNIGHT    OF    ST.  JOHN"* 

giiment  in  his  power ;  agreeably  sur* 
prised  by  her  excess  of  feeling,  and  little 
aware  of  its  transitory  nature. 

He  strove,  at  the  same  time,  to  impress 
on  her,  as  he  always  did  on  Cesario,  that 
the  blameless  accomplishments  of  their 
wishes  could  only  be  effected  by  the  ac- 
quirement of  that  fame,  and  those  distinc- 
tions  (if  not  fortune),  which  Cesario  must 
find  in  the  path  of  danger ;  or  be  deemed 
both  insolent  and  mercenary,  when  he 
should  sue  for  her  hand. 

"  I  fear,"  he  said,  "  that  you  must 
discipline  your  mind  to  endure  a  long 
probation  of  anxiety  and  frequent  sepa- 
ration." 

"  Oh,  'tis  what  he  suffers  !"  she  rashly 
exclaimed.  "  He  loves  me  so  much, 
that  I  should  be  ungrateful,  insensible, 
not  to  weep  as  I  am  now  doing !" 

Giovanni  averted  his  gentle  eyes  as 
she  spoke ;  believing  those  broken  sen- 
tences proceeded  from  maiden  bashful- 
ness,  unwilling  to  confess  its  own  tender- 


THE    KNIGHT    OP   ST.  JOHN.  249 

iiess ;  but,  at  a  very  distant  period,  he 
recalled  it  as  a  proof  that  her's  was  a 
love  of  gratitude,  rather  than  of  spon- 
taneous preference  ;  and  in  doing  so,  he 
made  a  second  conclusion  as  erroneous 
as  the  first. 

When  Signor  Calva  and  his  wife,  on 
joining  Beatrice  in  the  grove,  heard  that 
Giovanni  was  going  to  Genoa  for  only  a 
single  day,  they  pressed  him  with  great 
earnestness  to  return  to  their  casino,  in- 
stead of  to  his  own  solitary  house.  Signor 
Calva  boasted  his  hawks  and  his  wolf- 
dogs  ;  and  promised  his  guest  all  the 
glory  of  a  hazardous  chase. 

Giovanni  considered  for  a  moment  j  he 
was  not  usually  inclined  to  sudden  inti- 
macies; but  as  it  was  an  object  with  him 
to  read  Beatrice  thoroughly,  he  thanked 
Signor  Calva,  and  accepted  the  invit- 
ation. 

That  prompt  acceptance  was  another 
blow  to  the  image  of  Cesario  in  the  heart 
of  his  unstable  mistress  5  and  her  eyes 
u  5 


S50  THE    KNIGHT    OF    ST.  JOHN. 

sparkled  with  joy :  those  very  eyes  which, 
but  a.  few  moments  before,  had  streamed 
with  tears ! 

In  truth,  for  the  last  night  and  day, 
and  for  some  few  that  followed,  Beatrice's 
inclinations  were  a  sort  of  chaos,  that 
would  have  puzzled  the  steadiest  ob- 
server to  have  guessed  in  what  order  it 
would  at  last  settle. 

So  many  rapturous  recollections  and 
pangs  of  remorse,  so  much  of  lingering 
liking  and  fear  of  his  despair,  was  at- 
tached to  the  idea  of  Cesario ;  and  so 
much  of  novelty,  and  excited  vanity,  and 
ardour  of  pursuit,  and  personal  admi- 
ration, belonged  to  that  of  Giovanni, 
that  Beatrice  herself  was  unable  to  decide 
what  she  felt,  or  what  she  desired,  or 
what  she  meant  to  do. 

This  was  the  moment  in  which  she 
ought  to  have  flown  from  the  seductions 
of  opportunity  ;  and  refused  to  her  rising 
vanity,  or  wandering  inclination,  the  food 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  251 

of  daily  intercourse  with  their  object  y 
but,  ever  self-indulging,  she  staid  at  the 
casino :  and,  once  from  shore,  the  tide 
was  free  to  carry  her  where  it  would. 


M  6 


(     ^52     ) 


CHAPTER  XIIL 

During  Giovanni's  residence  of  a  fort- 
night in  the  same  house  with  the  Signora 
Brignoletti,  he  became  more  sensible  to 
the  witcheries  as  well  as  to  the  defi- 
ciencies of  her  character ;  and  though, 
in  their  frequent  conversations,  his  pure- 
ly-benevolent manner,  and  his  earnest 
admonitions,  showed  him  unwarped  by 
any  treacherous  inclination,  Beatrice 
found  enough  to  flatter  her  hopes  in  the 
single  circumstance  of  his  remaining  a 
guest  at  the  casino. 

To  one  so  spoiled  as  Beatrice  was,  by 
every  other  person,  there  was  something 
piquant  in  his  reproofs  of  her  idleness, 
or  levity,  or  liberal  display  of  talent ; 
and  having  discovered  that  a  look  of  pe- 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  253 

aitence  became  her,  she  was  never  spar- 
ing of  them,  nor  indeed  of  promises  of 
amendment. 

Giovanni  allowed  this  ingenuous  spirit 
to  be  very  charming  ;  but  his  better  judg- 
ment saw  its  worthlessness,  as  reform- 
ation seldom  followed  confession. 

Beatrice  was  not  yet  practised  enough 
for  the  artifice  of  overruling  her  ovm 
faulty  habits,  and  stifling  her  own  fa- 
vourite opinions  till  her  point  was  gained: 
she  could  only  look  to  the  soul,  with 
beautiful  eyes  all  tears  and  brightness, 
and  ask  again,  and  again,  in  a  voice  ten- 
der as  a  child's,  to  hear  the  catalogue  of 
her  errors,  and  wish  she  could  be  but 
half  as  ^vise  and  good  as  her  mentor. 

Sometimes  she  broke  forth  in  grateful 
acknowledgments  of  Giovanni's  kind 
austerity,  lamenting  that  Cesario  blindly 
indulged  her  follies  ;  and  then  she  always 
added,  "  but  he  loves  me  so  much !" 

Giovanni  soon  began  to  observe,  that 
she  never  added  to  this  phrase  any  ex- 


£54  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

pression  implying  an  equal  attachment  on 
her  ^de. 

Never  dreaming,  however,  that  he  was 
personally  concerned  in  this,  he  yet  felt 
certain  that  his  friend's  hopes  were 
hollow,  and  that  the  bubble  would  sooner 
or  later  burst  in  his  hand. 

This  imagination  was  a  distressing  one  ; 
for  Cesario's  passion  was,  alas,  too  real ; 
and  his  despair  w^ould  be  extreme.  But 
Giovanni  consoled  himself  by  believing 
that  as  succeeding  events  must  unfold 
Beatrice's  unsteady  character,  Cesario 
would,  at  last,  be  brought  to  consider  the 
disappointment  as  a  blessing. 

Some  business  having  recalled  Gio- 
vanni to  Genoa,  he  took  leave  of  the 
agreeable  Signor  Calva  with  many  testi- 
monies of  good-will ;  and,  as  Beatrice 
professed  her  intention  of  being  in  Genoa 
nearly  as  soon  as  himself,  he  promised 
to  present  himself  at  the  Palazzo  Rosso. 

Having  reached  the  city,  he  was 
mounting  the  steps  of  his  own  portico, 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  ^55 

when  he  felt  himself'  caught  in  the  arms 
of  some  person  behind.  He  turned 
round,  and  met  the  beaming  look  of 
Cesario.  With  what  joy  did  he  return 
his  cordial  pressure  ! 

**  I  have  not  been  an  hour  on  shore," 
exclaimed  Cesario  ;  "  and  am  just  come 
from  reporting  my  success  to  the  Sig- 
niory." 

Success  was,  indeed,  painted  on  Ce- 
sario's  countenance :  its  animated  glow 
scarcely  required  the  rapid  narrative  he 
gave  by  snatches  as  he  entered  the 
house  with  Giovanni. 

He  had  overtaken  the  Barbary  vessel, 
boarded  and  captured  her.  The  fight 
was  fierce ;  and  a  Moorish  sabre  had 
nearly  severed  his  left  arm  from  his  body; 
but  a  crowd  of  hapless  women  and  child- 
ren were  praying  to  Heaven  for  his  suc- 
cess and  safety,  and  Heaven  had  heard. 

With  his  prize  in  tow,  Cesario  steered 
for  the  Tuscan  village  which  the  pirates 
had  plundered.     What  transport,  to  re* 


356  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

store  its  captured  inhabitants  to  their 
homes !  What  a  moment,  to  see  wives 
throwing  themselves  into  the  arms  of 
their  husbands,  children  running  to  kiss 
the  feet  of  their  venerable  parents,  whom 
they  had  never  expected  to  see  more  on 
this  side  the  grave! 

Cesario  painted  the  scene,  not  by 
words,  but  by  looks — by  the  profound 
emotion  with  which  he  uttered  these 
few  words :  "  We  restored  them  all !" 
Giovanni  had  known  the  same  satisfac- 
tion, and  his  memory  completed  the  un- 
finished picture. 

When  his  friend's  feelings  were  a  little 
quieter,  he  spoke  of  Beatrice.  At  that 
name  the  heart  of  Cesario  blazed  forth 
afresh.  Eager  questions,  passionate  apos- 
trophes, expressions  of  alternate  sur- 
prise and  delight,  broke  in  repeatedly 
upon  Giovanni's  account  of  his  intro- 
duction to  her ;  and,  as  Giovanni  uni- 
formly answered  "  Yes,"  to  his  throng- 
ing questions  of,   «  Is  she  not  lovely  ?  is 


THE    KNIGHT    OF    ST.  JOHN.  257 

she  not  charming  ?  is  she  not  delightful  ? 
is  she  not  all  ingenuousness  ?"  Cesa- 
rio  never  observed  that  his  friend  did 
not  follow  up  these  affirmations  by  any 
approving  observations  of  his  own. 

It  was  enough  for  his  rapid  feelings  to 
know,  that  hi's  friend  and  his  mistress 
were  acquainted :  after  that,  he  fancied 
all  the  rest. 

Every  thing  now  was  bright  in  his  on- 
ward path :  he  was  rapidly  winning  ho- 
nour and  station  in  society  ;  fortune  must 
follow :  Beatrice  loved  him  ;  her  mother 
ceased  to  frown  on  him  ;  Giovanni  was 
his  friend ;  and  his  father's  memory  was 
honourably  perpetuated  by  his  country ! 

"  A  little  while,  and  I  shall  possess  all 
the  happiness  that  is  now  but  promised 
me  V*  he  said,  in  a  transport  of  hope 
and  gratitude :  "  Oh !  Giovanni,  how  I 

wish "he  stopt.      **  You^wish  me  a 

mistress  as  fair  and  as  kind  as  your  own ! 
Is  not  that  what  you  would  have  said  ?" 
asked  his  friend,  smiling  ;  "  but  my  heart 


Q5S  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

»has  not  room  for  any  thing  besides  my 
friend." 

"  Beware  !''  exclaimed  Cesario;  "Love 
will  have  his  revenge  some  day." 

"  I  won't  defy  him,  but  I  do  not  fear 
him,"  was  Giovanni's  tranquil  answer,  as 
they  shook  hands  after  a  long  discourse, 
and  parted  in  the  porch  of  his  vestibule. 

Cesario  chose  the  hour  of  matins,  the 
next  day,'  for  his  visit  to  the  Palazzo 
Rosso.  At  that  hour,  he  knew  the  Mar- 
chesa  would  be  at  her  devotions. 

The  suddenness  of  his  appearance,  his 
ardour,  his  wound,  his  fresh  laurels,  nay, 
even  the  confusion  of  her  own  con- 
science, gave  a  more  touching  character 
to  the  Signora's  reception  than  it  would 
naturally  have  had. 

When  he  talked  of  Giovanni,  she 
listened  with  attention,  and  replied  with 
animation ;  but  when  he  would  have 
covered  her  fair  hands  \\ith  kisses,  some- 
thing of  self-condemnation,  and  rather 
more  of  altered  sensibility,  gave  her  an 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  Q5Q 

air  of  modest  resistance,  which  Cesario 
had  hitherto  ne^er  allowed  himself  to 
miss,  but  which,  once  there,  transported 
him  to  rapture. 

He  threw  himself  at  her  feet,  pouring 
out  a  torrent  of  wishes  and  entreaties. 
It  seemed  to  him,  that  he  could  no 
longer  live  without  permission  to  declare 
to  all  the  world  that  he  lived  but  for  her 
alone.  Deluded  by  his  frantic  passion, 
he  besought  Beatrice  to  let  him  avow 
their  attachment  to  the  Marchesa,  and 
beseech  her  to  consent  to  their  future 
union,  whenever  the  fortune  of  the  war, 
or  the  liberality  of  his  country,  should 
reward  his  enterprises  with  the  means  of 
honourable  life. 

Beatrice  was  too  well  acquainted  with 
her  mother's  sentiments,  and  too  uncer- 
tain of  her  own,  to  yield  assent  to  this 
proposal :  not  that  she  now  dreaded  the 
consequence  of  a  refusal  for  herself,  but 
she  feared,  that  in  Cesario's  banishment 
from  the  Palazzo  Rosso,  his  friend  would 


^60  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

be  included,  and  her  yet  half-formed  pro- 
jects upon  Giovanni's  affections  be  de- 
stroyed at  once. 

Art  is  the  offspring  of  fear  and  con- 
scious unworthiness.  Beatrice,  without 
foregone  purpose,  instantly  assumed  an 
appearance  of  sympathy  with  her  lover's 
ardour,  only  to  persuade  him  not  to 
risk,  by  a  rash  disclosure,  the  chance  of 
her  mother's  prohibition,  and  probable 
removal  of  her  from  his  reach. 

She  did  not,  it  is  true,  advance  many 
good  arguments  against  frankness  of  con- 
duct ;  but  she  said  so  many  playful 
things  ;  she  hovered  round  him  so  like  a 
caressing  breeze ;  she  looked  in  such  a 
glow  of  love  and  youth  and  earnestness, 
that  Cesario  yielded  his  integrity  to  the 
charm,  and  believed  that  he  ought  not 
to  ask  or  wish  for  more. 

After  this  meeting,  he  rarely  went  to 
the  Palazzo  Rosso  unaccompanied  by 
Giovanni,  whose  silent  observations  upon 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  261 

Beatrice  were  daily  becoming  less  favour- 
able to  her. 

Cesario  was  of  a  temper  slow  to  im- 
agine wrong  from  persons  dear  to  him ; 
and  he,  therefore,  saw  in  Beatrice's  an- 
xiety to  please  Giovanni,  merely  the 
conduct  of  one  inclined  to  love  every 
thing  beloved  by  the  object  of  her  prime 
affection. 

Rendered  uncomfortable  by  her  marked 
attentions  to  himself  (which  had  a  subtle 
something  in  them  which  distressed  him, 
he  knew  not  w^hy),  Giovanni  mean-while 
seized  an  opportunity,  which  just  then 
presented  itself,  of  leaving  Italy.  This 
opportunity  was  afforded  by  a  letter  from 
the  Chevalier  de  Fronsac's  cousin,  in- 
viting Giovanni  into  Guienne,  for  the 
purpose  of  renewing  their  attempts  of  as- 
certaining the  existence  or  death  of  their 
separate  relatives. 

Giovanni  hoped  some  light  might  be 
struck  out  by  personal  communication  j 

6 


262  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

and  he  trusted  that  during  his  absence, 
if  Beatrice's  inconstancy  were  destined  to 
pierce  his  friend's  heart,  it  might  find  an- 
other hand  than  his  to  throw  the  dart 
with. 

Revolving  how  to  leave  some  hint 
of  his  doubts  for  Cesario  to  recal  here- 
after, when  his  own  apprehensions  might 
require  support  from  those  of  another, 
he  went  with  his  friend  to  a  supper  at 
Signor  Calva's,  the  night  before  he  was 
to  commence  his  journey  to  France. 

Several  other  persons  were  added  to 
the  family  party,  amongst  whom  were 
the  Marchesa  Brignoletti  and  the  Sig- 
nora  Beatrice. 

Cards,  conversation,  and  music  filled 
up  the  time.  Beatrice  did  not  assist  at 
these  amusements  ;  she  was  gay  but  by 
fits ;  and  Cesario's  animated  attention  to 
her  alone,  failed  to  drive  away  the  cloud 
of  thought  or  melancholy,  which  dark- 
ened her  bright  eyes. 

He  observed  this  with  silent  delight ; 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  263 

for  he  flattered  himself  that  it  arose  from 
her  apprehension  of  his  being  ordered 
out  to  sea  again,  as  a  rumour  in  the 
morning  had  suggested. 

After  supper,  the  younger  part  of  the 
company  went  to  enjoy  the  cool  night- 
air,  in  one  of  those  artificial  gardens  with 
which  the  Genoese  ornament  the  broad 
and  flat  roofs  of  their  houses. 

Flowering  shrubs  formed  slight  divi^ 
sions  between  the  different  sets  into 
which  their  little  society  now  broke. 
Beatrice  stood,  leaning  her  blooming 
cheek  against  the  dark  umbrage  of  some 
cypress-trees,  evidently  absorbed  by  un- 
pleasant thoughts,  while  she  was  uncon- 
sciously tearing  into  fragments  the  flow- 
ery band  which  confined  her  luxuriant 
hair. 

Strong  expression  gives  elevation  to 
beauty ;  and  for  once,  Cesario  saw  that 
face  of  almost  infantine  sportiveness 
assume  the  severer  charm  of  painful 
thought. 


264  THE    KNIGHT    OF    ST.  JOHN. 

After  calling  Giovanni's  notice  to  her 
interesting  figure,  he  drew  near ;  whisper- 
ing his  own  and  his  friend's  admiration. 

That  whisper  restored  its  wonted  ani- 
mation to  the  face  of  Beatrice  :  it  was  the 
first  time  she  had  been  told  that  Gio- 
vanni did  admire  her  beauty  ;  and  her 
pulse  beat  joyously  at  the  idea.  She 
listened  to  her  lover's  raptures,  as  if  she 
fancied  he  spoke  those  of  his  friend  also  ; 
and  thus  beguiling,  and  self-beguiled,  she 
bent  forward  to  his  discourse  with  an  air 
of  such  perfect  satisfaction,  that  Gio- 
vanni, who  now  and  then  glanced  at 
them  from  a  distance,  knew  not  what  to 
think  of  her  Proteus-like  manners. 

Nearly  persuaded  that  he  did  exact 
too  much  consistency  from  youth,  he 
joined  her  and  his  friend.  **  WTiy  have 
you  not  sung  to-night  ?"  he  asked  with 
an  air  of  kind  interest ;  **  1  can  forgive 
your  little  caprices,  when  they  do  not  rob 
us  of  a  pleasure." 

Beatrice  gave  him  one  of  her   most 


THE  KNIGMT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  ^65 

brilliant  smiles ;  not  the  less  brilliant, 
because  the  eyes  she  darted  round  at 
him  sparkled  through  tears.  "  I  was 
out  of  spirits  —  thinking  all  sorts  of  dis- 
mal fancies."  She  replied  in  her  most 
penetrating  tone. 

*«  I  will  not  chide  you  for  that,'*  re- 
turned Giovanni,  playfully.  "  I  have 
leclfured  you  often  on  a  very  opposite 
tendency." 

At  that  moment  Cesario  obeyed  the 
call  of  the  Signora  Calva ;  and  Beatrice 
was  left  by  the  side  of  Giovanni :  —  he 
was  about  to  leave  her,  when  she  said 
precipitately,  **  So  you  go  to-morrow ! 
1  have  been  thinking  of  it  all  this  evening. 
Ah,  Signor  Cigala,  what  shall  I  do  with- 
out my  monitor  ?" 

The  touching  accent  in  which  this  was 
said,  and  the  agitated  air  by  which  it  was 
accompanied,  made  Giovanni  start ;  his 
pulse  beat  not  so  temperately  as  before  ; 
but  withdrawing  his  eyes  from  her  glow 
of  beauty,  he  replied  calmly,  "  I  suspect, 

VOL.  I.  N 


266  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

there  are  no  better  monitors  than  our 
own  reflections,  if  we  will  but  attend  to 
^|em.'' 

«  No  —  no  V*  repeated  Beatrice,  ear- 
nestly J  "  every  thing  right  I  have  yet  to 
learn.  You  have  shown  me  the  impro- 
priety of  many  things  I  do,  which  I  never 
dreamt  were  wrong ;  and  which  no  one 
else  has  had  the  precious  sincerity  to  tell 
me  were  so.  —  O,  if  I  could  be  always 
near  you,  I  should  never  act  foolishly. — 
How  long  shall  you  stay  away?  —  Oh, 
do  not  stay  long."  —  She  spoke  with  the 
innocent  passionateness  of  a  child,  ^^nd 
she  looked  like  an  angel. 

Giovanni  had  to  remind  himself  that 
she  was  neither  a  child  nor  an  angel; 
and  that  as  an  engaged  woman,  having 
decorums  and  delicacies  to  observe,  she 
was  strangely  indiscreet.  Yet  this  anxiety 
tor  his  return  might  indeed  arise  from  a 
wish  to  become  more  reasonable  y  and  as 
the  friend  of  Cesario,  she  might,  with  per- 
fect artlessness,  believe  herself  privileged 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  gT.  JOHN.  ^67 

to  speak  to  him  with  lively  regard.     He 
glanced  anxiously  on  her,  as  he  replied, 

**  I  shall  stay  just  long  enough,  I  sup- 
pose, to  allow  Adimari  time  to  undo  all 
my  work.  When  he  will  tell  you,  that 
even  your  greatest  faults  are  charms  in 
his  eyes,  there  can  be  no  hope  that 
my  monkish  admonitions  will  be  either 
regarded  or  remembered." 

Beatrice  started,  and  trembled  wdth 
the  agitation  of  sudden  hope.  To  her 
distempered  fancy,  those  serious  words 
seemed  the  dictates  of  jealous  love.  She 
forgot  all  reserve  in  that  fancy;  and 
solely  intent  upon  the  object  of  unde- 
ceiving him,  if  he  could  doubt  her  pre- 
ference for  him,  she  rashly  exclaimed, 

"  I  am  tired  of  admiration  that  I  know 
I  don't  deserve ;  and  I  shall  think  of  no- 
thing but  your  admonitions." 

Giovanni's  deep  disorder  made  her  in- 
stantly sensible  of  her  indiscretion,  and 
his  sentiments  of  it ;  and  she  blushed  till 
her  very  temples  throbbed  visibly. 

N    2 


268  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

Unable  to  raise  her  eyes,  from  which 
tears  now  burst,  she  added,  "  You  will 
never  see  me  gay  and  thoughtless  again. — 
I  have  mistaken  gratitude,  for  I  know 
not  what !  —  I  have  entangled  myself  in 
a  net  of  trouble  and  folly  ;  and,  I  must 
abide  the  consequence  —  misery  !'' 

Giovanni,  in  extreme  confusion,  mut- 
tered something  about  always  wishing 
her  happiness  and  the  consciousness  of 
deserving  it ;  and  hastily  left  her  side. 

He  went,  purposely,  into  the  middle 
of  a  little  circle,  where  Signer  Calva  was 
singing  to  his  wife's  lute ;  and  appearing 
to  listen,  he  stood,  in  reality,  thinking 
over  his  strange  conversation  with  Bea- 
trice. 

In  her  last  speech,  it  is  true,  she  had 
not  mentioned  Cesario,  but  the  impres- 
sion on  Giovanni's  mind,  was  that  she 
alluded  to  him.  "This  net  of  trouble 
and  folly ;"  what  could  it  mean,  beside 
her  engagement  with  him  ?  "  This  misery 


THE    KNIGHT    OF    ST.  JOHN.  QG9 

that  was  to  be  the  consequence ;"  what 
was  it,  unless  the  bitterness  of  marrying 
a  man,  she  either  ceased  to  love,  or  had 
encouraged  formerly  from  mingled  gra- 
titude and  childish  levity  ? 

Giovanni  had  not  a  spark  of  vanity, 
but  he  was  not  mentally  blind  ;  and,  un- 
less he  had  been  so,  it  would  have  been 
impossible  for  him  to  have  put  together 
her  words,  and  looks,  and  tones  of  voice, 
without  observing,  that  they  made  up  a 
most  startling  whole  of  flattery  to  him- 
self. 

Whether  coquetry,  or  liking,  was  the 
source  of  this  subtle  wooing,  it  was 
equally  pernicious  to  him,  and  injurious 
to  Cesario  j  and  he  believed  it  his  duty 
to  speak  more  explicitly  of  her  now 
to  his  friend,  than  he  had  intended  to  do 
while  fluctuating  between  suspicion  of 
her  fickleness  and  reliance  upon  her 
candour. 

Giovanni  was  to  quit  Genoa  the  ne^t 
day  J  that  night,  therefore,  was  his  only 
N  3 


THO  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

opportunity  :  he  must  imbitter  its  sacred 
farewell,  by  urging  doubts  that  must 
shock,  perhaps  irritate  Cesario:  that 
night,  he  must  begin  to  put  Cesario's 
friendship  to  the  test  by  opposing  it  to 
his  love  :  that  night,  he  must  leave  a 
sting  in  the  heart  dearest  to  him,  either 
by  troubling  Cesario's  affection  for  him- 
self, or  his  devotedness  to  Beatrice  ! 

The  necessity  was  imperious  5  and  Gio- 
vanni, with  a  firm  though  grieved  spirit, 
determined  upon  the  act. 

He  now  joined  the  party  of  gentlemen 
who,  with  customary  gallantry,  preceded 
the  March esa's  carriage,  with  their  torch- 
bearers,  to  the  Palazzo  Rosso ;  then  se- 
parating from  them,  Giovanni  accom- 
panied Cesario  home. 

On  reaching  the  Sjmdic's,  they  sat 
down  together  in  the  single  but  large 
window  of  Cesario's  apartment;  there 
they  conversed  with  "  unlocked  breasts." 

^he  window  was  open ;  but  it  looked 
only  upon  an  extensive  orchard,  where 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  ^271 

every  thing  was  so  still,  that  even  the 
ripe  fig  was  heard  as  it  fell  from  the 
loaded  boughs  upon  the  soft  turf  below  : 
they  were  therefore  fearless  of  listeners. 

They  talked  of  Giovanni's  intended 
journey ;  and,  of  course,  of  its  purpose. 
Giovanni  lamented  his  sister's  uncertain 
fate,  and  early  imprudence,  with  unusual 
vehemence  ;  striving,  while  he  described 
the  distress  a  clandestine  marriage  had 
caused  in  his  family,  to  guard  Cesario 
against  the  temptation  of  producing  equal 
confusion  in  that  of  the  Marchesa. 

"  And  if  you  are  made  certain  that 
your  sister  is  no  more;  or,  if  none  of 
your  endeavours  can  discover  her  abso- 
lute fate  ;  —  what  will  you  do  ?" 

"  Return  hither,  and  live  a  solitary 
life  ;  but  as  happy  a  one,  as  freedom  and 
friendship  can  make  it." 

"  Good  Heaven  !  and  you  determine 
not  to  marry  ?"  exclaimed  Cesario. 

"  I   make  no    such    determination :" 
replied  his  friend,  smiling  ;   «<  but  I  have 
N  4 


:272  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN, 

no  wish  to  marry  ^    and  I  think  it  is  an 
event  very  unlikely  to  happen/* 

"  You  think  you  shall  not  find  a  woman 
capable  of  making  you  happy?"  asked 
Cesario. 

"  I  do  indeed." 

"  O,  that  I  could  find  you  another 
Beatrice !" 

Giovanni  only  smiled,  and  shook  his 
head. 

Cesario  considered  him  with  surprise. 
"  What !  would  not  such  love,  and  such 
beauty,  as  hers,  content  you  ?" 

"  I  am,  in  truth,  not  so  soon  satisfied 
as  you  are,"  said  Giovanni,  with  appre- 
hensive kindness. 

Again  Cesario  was  a  moment  silent 
with  surprise.  "  What  is  it  that  does  not 
satisfy  you  in  Beatrice  ?  her  affection  for 
me  ?  or  her  character  ?" 

*'  Her  character,  principally." 

**  Good  Heaven  !"  again  repeated  Ce^ 
sario  ;  **  this  is  extraordinary  !  and  what 
are  your  objections  to  her  ?" 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  ^3 

"  Am  I  to  speak  truth  and  reason  to 
a  lover,  and  of  the  woman  he  loves  ?*' 
asked  Giovanni  indulgently.  "  No,  no, 
my  dear  Cesario,  I  doubt  you  would  not 
suffer  it." 

"  By  our  friendship,  I  demand  it !'' 
exclaimed  Cesario,  warming  into  ear- 
nestness and  a  little  indignation. — "\Vhat 
can  you  object  to  in  Beatrice  ?" 

"  Dare  I  tell  you?  —  her  incessant 
waste  of  time  :  the  more  pernicious  fault, 
because  she  commits  it  so  amiably,  and 
so  charmingly,  that  she  might  soon  se- 
duce the  man  that  loved  her  into  similar 
habits." 

Cesario  could  not  easily  comprehend 
the  nature  of  this  accusation  ;  and  he 
urged  a  more  distinct  explanation  of  it. 

Giovanni  then  gently,  but  firmly, 
showed  him  how  entirely  the  days  of 
Beatrice  were  wasted  in  mere  amuse- 
ments, without  reference  to  a  single  ob- 
ject, either  beneficial  to  herself,  or  to 
others.  Cesario  reluctantly  confessed 
N  5 


^74  THE    KNIGHT    OF    ST.  JOHN. 

this,  but  added,  **  she  is  so  young."  — - 
«  Well,  then,  I  would  not  marry  one  so 
very  young,"  replied  Giovanni,  some- 
what playfully. 

Cesario  pressed  him  further  ;  and  Gio- 
vanni was  obliged  to  confess,  that  the 
unceasing  brilliancy  of  Beatrice's  spirits 
frightened  him  :  he  could  never  convince 
himself  that  such  a  constant  glow  of 
hilarity  could  be  united  with  depth  of 
feeling.  —  Then  her  caprice  in  dress,  and 
favourites,  and  pleasures,  made  him  fear, 
she  might  not  be  very  steady  in  more 
serious  things. 

In  short,  it  was  instability  of  charac- 
ter which  appeared  to  him  the  secret  of 
all  her  fascination  and  all  her  faults. 

Cesario's  rising  resentment  was  quelled 
by  his  friend's  liberal  confession  of  Bea- 
trice's witchery ;  he  therefore  answered 
his  different  objections  with  less  heat  than 
Giovanni  had  prepared  himself  to  expect* 

Cesario  admitted  her  agreeable  caprice 
in  trifles,  her  thoughtless  squandering  of 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  §75 

time,  her  buoyant  resistance  against  every 
sorrow  5  but  he  attributed  these  to  a 
different  source  from  that  on  which  Gio- 
vanni charged  them. 

In  her  lover's  opinion,  her  caprices 
were,  singly,  pretty  affectations  assumed 
to  amuse  others  ;  her  waste  of  time,  the 
effect  of  innocence  and  inexperience, 
which  had  only  to  learn  the  severer  du- 
ties of  life,  to  practise  them  with  ear- 
nestness ;  her  cloudless  gaiety,  the  wish 
of  diffusing  happiness,  joined  to  that 
vernal  spirit  of  hope,  which  is  woman's 
best  attribute. 

"  It  may  be  so,  my  dear  Cesario,"  said 
Giovanni,  stifling  a  sigh  ;  **  and  I  should 
rejoice  to  read  my  recantation  to  you  j  — 
when  she  is  your  wife." 

**  And  will  that  answer  all  these 
doubts  ?"  asked  Cesario,  thrilling  at  the 
idea. 

"  Certainly,"  returned  his  friend  ; 
"  time  will  then  have  proved  her  con- 
stancy J  and,  with  her  constancy,  proved 
N  6 


276  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

her  depth  of  feeling  ;  and,  where  there 
is  deep  feeling  in  an  innocent  breast, 
there  is  a  principle  that  will  redeem  lo&t 
time,  and  repair  error." 

Cesario  embraced  him  :  "  There  spoke 
my  kind  Giovanni  again ;  I  scarcely 
knew  his  voice,  when  it  uttered  such 
harsh  sentiments.'* 

Cesario's  eyes  were  moistened  with 
tenderness  ;  Giovanni's  were  full  of  con- 
cern, and  even  greater  tenderness. 

"  A  friend's  hardest  office  is  some- 
times that  of  speaking  truth :"  he  said, 
grasping  Cesario's  agitated  hand  j  **  and 
you  may  believe,  I  perform  it  unwil- 
lingly. But  ought  not  one  friend  to 
warn  another  of  a  probable  danger  j 
ought  he  not  to  show  him,  how  to  avoid 
misery,  and  secure  peace  ?  I  am  suspi- 
cious of  Beatrice's  steadiness ;  you  are 
not ;  and  if  she  were  to  fail  you,  and  the 
unforeseen  shock  deprive  you  of  reason, 
what  would  become  of  me,  when  I  should 


THE  KNIGHT  OP  ST.  JOHHN.        TJl 

remember  that  my  warning  might,  at 
least,  have  prepared " 

''  Kill  me  not  now  with  this  horrid 
image  1"  interrupted  Cesario,  starting 
from  him,  yet  not  in  anger.  *«  O  Gio- 
vanni, one  miserable  event  has  mixed 
poison  with  this  noble  heart's  stream ; 
which  else  had  flowed  all  pure  and 
healthy.  You  have  been  deceived ;  and 
you  suspect  all  the  sex  !  Is  this  just  — 
is  this  reasonable  ?" 

Giovanni  could  have  said,  he  did  not 
suspect  all  the  sex ;  that  there  were 
some  he  valued  highly  ;  and  one,  (his 
hapless  sister,)  whom  he  could  still  love 
most  fondly ;  but  he  forbore  to  press 
further  upon  the  feelings  of  Cesario  5 
and,  suffocating  a  sigh,  he  replied,  **  I 
may  be  wrong  ;  I  hope,  and  wish  I  may. 
Yet  let  me  entreat  you,  for  the  dignity 
of  your  nature,  for  the  sake  of  your 
future  security  in  an  indissoluble  engage- 
ment, do  a  little  violence  to  this  honour- 
able romance  of  love  j  and  imagine  the 


^78  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

jpossibility  of  Beatrice  being  less  than 
perfect.  Study  her  closer;  watch  her 
conduct  to  others ;  see  if  she  always 
satisfies  you.  Reflect  upon  the  many 
emotions  in  which  you  may  find  that  she 
does  not  sympathise  "svith  any  of  your 
strong  sensibilities,  unconnected  with 
herself:  then  go  back  to  your  own  heart, 
and  ask  it,  if  such  a  companion,  in  weal 
and  woe,  in  youth  and  age,  for  time  and 
for  eternity,  would  leave  it  nothing  to 
desire." 

Giovanni  stopped.  Cesario  did  not 
reply ;  his  heart  was  full ;  and  his  eyes 
were  on  the  point  of  overflowing.  He 
saw  the  spire  of  San  Siro  at  a  distance  ; 
and  that  object  reminded  him  with  what 
profound  emotion  he  had  led  Beatrice  to 
his  father's  monument  there ;  and  what 
a  chill  struck  to  his  soul,  when  he  saw 
her  cheek  tearless. 

He  was  silent  a  long,  long  time  :  how 
many  racking  ideas  were  then  torturing 
him !     At  length  throwing  himself  into 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  279 

a  seat,  he  exclaimed  in  a  voice  of  tender 
reproach,  "  Giovanni,  what  friendship 
is  this  ?"  and  he  concealed  his  face. 

**  Judge  what  friendship,'*  cried  Gio- 
vanni in  as  penetrating  a  tone,  "  when  it 
gives  me  strength  to  risk  even  the  loss 
of  that  affection  I  had  such  a  conflict 
to  gain  !" 

Both  were  again  silent ;  and  perhaps 
both  shed  tears.  Cesario  first  roused 
himself ;  and  took  Giovanni's  hand  :  he 
pressed  it  affectionately.  *'  You  were 
bom  to  subdue  me  —  and  I  yield  wil- 
lingly to  our  stars.  But  urge  not  your 
power  too  far,  my  Giovanni ;  force  me 
not  to  see,  what  I  would  rather  not^ee — 
what  I  should  never  have  looked  at, 
had  you  not  directed  my  eyes  that  way. 
'Tis  true,  Beatrice  w^ants  general  sen- 
sibility ;  but  how  lively  and  fervent  is 
her  attachment  to  me  !  Well,  then,  she 
can  feel  strongly.  Perhaps  that  sensibi- 
lity, hitherto  unexercised,  will  strengthen 
and  extend  its  sphere  with  new  habits  of 


^80  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

reflection.  She  that  can  love  disinter- 
estedly, is  surely  capable  of  other  ge- 
nerous affections  ?" 

"  Say  steadily,  my  Cesario,"  said 
Giovanni. 

"  And  has  she  not  been  steady  ?" 
enquired  the  astonished  lover.  "  Five 
months  since,  this  precious  ring  pledged 
her  heart  to  mine  ;  that  heart,  sought  by 
all  the  brave  and  noble  throughout 
Italy." 

«<  I  will  not  pursue  this  painful  sub- 
ject," said  Giovanni,  purposely  avoiding 
a  direct  answer  to  his  friend's  question. 
<*  If  I  have  already  grieved  you  deeply 
by  my  over-anxious  friendship,  place 
that  offence  among  **  the  godly  sins  :" 
doubt  my  judgment,  suspect  my  preju- 
dice, blame  my  intemperate  zeal;  do 
any  thing  but  think  me  wilfully  un* 
kind." 

"  But  what  would  you  wish  Beatrice 
to  do,  that  she  does  not  do,  to  testify  her 
purpose  to  be  mine,"  enquired  the  rest" 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  281 

less  Cesario.  **  You  know  that  I  would 
scorn  to  enter  the  Brignoletti  family  by 
a  clandestine  path.  I  never  urge  her, 
therefore,  and  she  cannot  offer,  to  aban- 
don her  home  for  me.  In  two  years, 
her  mother's  legal  power  over  her  ex- 
pires J  she  may  then  give  her  hand  and 
fortune,  to  whom  she  will.  If  I  have 
not  ronqnprpfl  snmpthing  like  fortune 
before  that  period,  she  will  bestow  hpr. 
self  upon  a  poor  fellow,  worth  nothing 
better  than  laurels ;  and  will  let  him 
show  the  world,  by  a  life  of  Roman  sim- 
plicity in  his  own  person,  that  her  wealth 
did  not  tempt  him.  Can  she  hasten  that 
period  ?  Does  she  encourage  other 
lovers?  Did  she  not,  from  our  first 
acquaintance,  evince  the  most  marked 
aversion  to  Count  Cagliari  ?  You  cannot 
therefore  think  her  a  cocquet  ?" 

"  I  do  not,"  replied  Giovanni  gently. 
**  I  beheve  her  sincere  ;  but  I  think  her 
uncertain  :  and  I  have  fancied  her  in- 
clination for  you  less  animated  than  you 


28S  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

described  it  formerly.'*  Cesario  was  on 
the  point  of  vehemently  rebutting  this 
assertion,  when  some  disagreeable  recol- 
lections crossed  him.  He  remembered, 
that  she  had  seldom  found  opportunities 
of  conversing  with  him  alone  of  late  5 
and  that  once  or  twice,  when  he  had 
gathered  a  bouquet  for  her,  she  had  care- 
lessly left  it  on  a  garden  Geat,  or  eu£Pcrcd 
it  fo  fall  from  her  breast  unheeded. 
There  was  a  time,  when  she  had  preserv- 
ed even  the  fragment  of  a  flower,  simply 
touched  by  him !  He  turned  pale,  and 
cast  down  his  eyes. 

Giovanni  read  the  disturbance  of  his 
mind  in  his  countenance ;  and  assured^ 
that  his  distressing  task  was  fulfilled, 
sought  to  end  the  conversation.  But 
Cesario  either  did  not  hear,  or  would 
not  answer  what  he  said  on  less  interest- 
ing things ;  he  remained  looking  gloomily 
on  the  ground,  evidently  revolving  some 
newly  conceived  thought.  Abruptly 
raising  his  head,  he  said  in  a  determined 
voice  — 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  283 

**  1  'will  be  satisfied,  and  you  shall  be 
convinced.  I  will  absent  myself  from 
the  Palazzo  Rosso ;  and  from  every 
place,  where  there  is  a  chance  of  meet- 
ing her ;  you  shall  see,  that  her  love  will 
break  through  common  forms  to  team 
the  cause  of  this.  Oh  yes  !  her  fond 
heart  will  rather  afflict  itself  with  the 
idea  of  some  accident  having  befallen 
me,  than  suspect  me  of  change.*' 

The  gloom  of  Cesario's  countenance 
melted  away  as  he  spoke,  and  Giovanni 
saw  that  reason  was  indeed  no  match  for 
passion.  "  If  time  and  trial  should 
prove  her  all  I  wish  her,  to  prove,*'  he 
said,  "  will  you  pardon  me  for  raising 
these  painful  doubts  ?  but,  Cesario,  could 
you  see  into  my  heart '* 

"  I  should  see  all  that  earth  has  of 
goodness,  kindness,  and  unheard  of 
friendship  !"  interrupted  Cesario,  open- 
ing his  arms  to  him,  with  his  generous 
soul  in  his  eyes. 

Giovanni  pressed  him  strongly  against 


284  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

his  breast,  for  a  moment,  with  a  brother's 
emotion ;  then  releasing  him,  with  a 
sigh,  that  would  not  be  repressed,  bade 
him  farewell. 


I 


(     2&5     ) 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

What  were  the  meditations  and  occu- 
pations of  Giovanni  during  his  journey  ? 

Far  from  entertaining  a  feeling  in 
unison  with  those  of  the  light-minded 
Beatrice,  he  was  solely  intent  upoh  the 
best  interests  of  his  friend. 

This  journey  had  a  two-fold  object : 
one  was  to  visit  the  family  of  De  Fron- 
sac  •,  the  other,  to  serve  Cesario. 

Some  years  back,  the  late  Signor  Adi- 
mari  had  advanced  a  large  sum  of  money 
to  a  young  adventurer,  called  Lanza, 
who  was  going  to  try  his  fortune  in  the 
newly-discovered  countries  beyond  the 
Atlantic. 

Several  vicissitudes  had  prevented  this 
person  from  repaying  the  important  loan, 


286  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

while  he  was  abroad :  but  on  returning 
to  Europe,  (his  own  moderate  fortune 
augmented  by  the  unexpected  legacy 
of  a  rich  partner's  property,)  during 
his  voyage  homeward  he  had  spoken 
openly  of  his  debt,  and  expressed  his 
intention  of  gratefully  repaying  it. 

Lanza  unfortunately  died  on  his  pas- 
sage, and  his  wealth  went  into  the  hands 
of  a  distant  relation.  But,  as  Signor 
Michaeli,  his  heir,  was  a  man  of  respect- 
able <iharacter,  though  no  bond  had 
ever  been  taken  by  the  elder  Adimari, 
it  was  possible  that  Michaeli  might  be 
induced  to  discharge  the  debt. 

Accident  having  thrown  Giovanni  into 
the  society  of  a  gentleman  who  had  come 
passenger  in  the  same  vessel  with  Lanza, 
he  learned  these  circumstances,  together 
with  the  name  and  residence  of  Signor 
Michaeli  ;  and  it  immediately  struck 
him,  that  this  gentleman's  testimony, 
with  that  of  one  or  two  others  (not  dif- 
ficult to  find  out),  would  oblige  Michaeli 

JZ 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  28? 

to  admit  that  such  a  sum  of  money  was 
due  to  the  heir  of  Signor  Adimari, 
and  consequently  lead  him  to  do  an  act 
of  justice.  The  law,  indeed,  could  not 
extort  it,  but  honour  and  generosity  have 
their  own  code. 

Signor  Michaeli  was  now  at  the  head 
of  a  mercantile  concern  at  Marseilles  t 
thither  Giovanni  meant  to  seek  him, 
concealing  the  circumstance  from  his 
friend,  lest  he  should  either  excite  ex- 
pectations which  might  not  be  realised, 
or  be  stayed  by  his  scrupulous  delicacy. 

An  invitation  from  the  Marquis  de 
Blanchefort,  happily  arriving  at  that  pe- 
riod, afforded  Giovanni  a  pretext  for  a 
journey  into  France;  yet  hopeless  of  hear- 
ing any  thing  new  of  his  sister,  he  first 
directed  his  steps  to  Marseilles. 

On  reaching  that  city,  Giovanni  found, 
in  Signor  Michaeli,  a  man  of  habitual 
caution  and  extreme  prudence  ;  and,  for 
a  while,  the  minuteness  of  the  latter's 
investigation,  his  numerous  doubts,  his 


S88  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN'. 

cool  balancing  between  what  was  likely, 
and  what  merely  possible,  made  him 
abandon  all  hope  of  success ;  but  the 
event  proved  that  Signor  Michaeli  scru- 
tanised  but  to  attain  conviction;  and 
that,  once  satisfied  of  his  kinsman's  obli^ 
gation  to  Signor  Adimari,  he  was  ready 
to  repay  the  whole  charge.  "  My  re- 
lative's affairs  are  not  settled,"  he  said  : 
*'  I  know  not  yet  the  extent  of  those 
claims  upon  his  property  which  legal 
forms  can  compel  us  to  satisfy :  they  of 
course  would  come  in  first  5  but  as 
soon  as  I  am  able  to  balance  the  debts 
and  the  property,  Signor  Cigala  shall 
hear  from  me.  I  do  not  doubt,  how- 
ever, that  there  will  be  enough  and  to 
spare.  Your  friend,  in  that  case,  may 
depend  upon  principal  and  interest." 
Giovanni  disclaimed  the  latter  in  his 
friend's  name.  "  It  is  his  right,"  returned 
Michaeli  calmly,  ''  no  gift :  'tis  in  the 
course  of  business ;  and  there  can  be  no 
obligation  in  the  affair." 
II 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST,  JOHN.  289 

Michaeli  then  took  down  the  names  of 
the  persons  to  whom  his  kinsman  had 
spoken  of  his  intention  to  repay  Signor 
Adimari ;  and,  expressing  an  expectation 
of  finding  some  memorandum  of  the 
business  amongst  the  papers  of  the  de- 
ceased, he  bade  his  visitor  good  morn- 
ing. 

Animated  by  this  prospect  of  recover^ 
ing  what  was  now  of  such  importance 
to  Cesario,  Giovanni  "  went  on  his  way 
rejoicing  ;"  for  he  no  longer  dreaded,  as 
formerly,  repulse  for  every  kindness ; 
and  though  he  hoped  no  satisfaction  to 
himself  from  his  visit  to  Sauveterre,  he 
felt  that,  in  making  it,  he  should  have 
completed  his  duty  to  his  imprudent 
-ister. 

Something  like  melancholy,  however, 
did  await  him  at  Sauveterre.  The  Mar- 
quis de  Blanchefort  (his  brother-in-law's 
successor)  had  found  out  a  person  who 
was  at  Ostia  in  the  year  1564,  and  who 
perfectly  remembered  being  casually  on 

VOL.  I,  o 


290  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

board  a  vessel  in  the  harbour,  when  a 
French  gentleman  of  the  nameof  DeFron- 
sac  was  settling  with  the  captain  for  a 
passage  to  Venice  for  himself  and  family. 
This  person  knew  that  the  vessel 
foundered  at  sea,  shortly  afterwards  ;  so 
that  it  was  now  almost  certain  that 
De  Fronsac  and  his  hapless  wife  had 
perished  in  her. 

Giovanni  did  not  hear  this  dismal 
confirmation  of  his  worst  imaginations 
without  sorrow ;  indeed,  he  paid  a  heavy 
tribute  of  tears,  in  secret,  to  the  memory 
of  this  unfortunate  sister. 

There  is  something  more  than  com- 
monly sad  in  death,  when  it  comes  un- 
expectedly, and  arrests  the  young  on  the 
very  threshold  of  life  !  When  Madame 
De  Fronsac  perished  by  this  most  miser- 
able of  deaths,  she  could  hardly  have 
reached  her  sixteenth  year.  So  young, 
so  beautiful,  so  amiable  as  she  promised 
to  be,  Giovanni  could  have  mourned 
long  and  deeply,  had  he  not  drawn  ar- 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  !J9i 

guments  for  resignation  from  the  details 
of  her  husband's  character,  as  communi- 
cated to  him  by  the  Marquis  de  Blanche- 
fort. 

Handsome,  engaging,  skilled  in  paint- 
ing and  music,  and  highly  susceptible  of 
the  charms  of  beauty,  De  Fronsac  was 
unhappily  but  too  much  adapted  to 
dazzle  the  imagination,  if  not  win  the 
affections  of  an  inexperienced  girl :  but 
though  free  from  turbulent  passions  or 
degrading  views,  he  was  not  of  a  cha- 
racter to  increase  domestic  happiness. 

A  restless  disposition,  which  made  in- 
cessant change  of  place  necessary  to  his 
very  existence,  disjointed  the  comforts 
of  every  individual  connected  with  him, 
and  by  degrees  wearied  out  their  regard. 

Thus,  in  despite  of  his  relations'  re- 
monstrances and  friends'  admonitions, 
he  persisted  to  waste  life  in  travelling, 
without  purpose  or  benefit,  insensible  to 
the  claims  of  a  numerous  tenantry,  and 
o  2 


29!^  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN* 

carrying  into   responsible  manhood  the 
habits  of  unimportant  youth. 

During  one  of  his  wandering  excur- 
sions in  the  neighbourhood  of  Monaco, 
he  saw  the  Signora  Cigala  at  a  convent,  of 
which  an  aunt  of  his  was  Superior.  He 
had  never  been  in  the  custom  of  foresee- 
ing consequences,  or,  in  fact,  of  caring 
for  them.  He  found  she  was  going  to 
marry,  against  her  will,  a  person  no- 
toriously disagreeable  ;  and  he  knew  that 
if  she  married  any  other,  her  father 
would  disclaim  her  :  but  inclination  was 
uncontrollable  with  De  Fronsac  ;  and  he 
played  so  ably  upon  the  two  passions  of 
hope  and  fear,  in  the  artless  breast  of 
fourteen,  that  he  persuaded  her  to  elope 
with  him. 

The  imprudent  couple  received  the 
nuptial  benediction  from  a  mercenary 
priest,  not  over  curious  as  to  the  pro- 
priety of  their  union  ;  after  which 
De   Fronsac   hastened,    with   a    lover's 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  293 

pride,  to  display  his  fair  bride  to  his 
mother  and  kindred. 

**  I  saw  your  sister  at  that  time,"  said 
the  Marquis  de  Blanchefort  (as  walking 
in  the  garden  he  gave  Giovanni  this  rela- 
tion); "and  I  have  never  forgotten  her — 
I  shall  never  forget  her!  Not  one  of  these 
flowers  about  us  is  half  so  lovely !  she  was 
so  delicate,  so  fair,  so  young  ! — the  first 
tender  bloom  of  childhood  was  still  on 
her  cheek.  How  little  did  I  think  that 
beautiful  form  was  destined  to  feed " 

De  Blanchefort  stopped,  and  apolo- 
gised for  his  indiscretion,  when  he  saw 
the  sudden  paleness  of  Giovanni:  the 
latter  bowed  his  head,  smiled  kindly,  but 
spoke  not :  a  shudder  passed  over  him — 
a  momentary  struggle  was  visible  in  all 
his  features — it  was  but  momentary — 
he  recovered  himself;  and  the  Marquis 
then  spoke  of  other  things. 

After  this  conversation,  when  Gio- 
vanni could  think  of  his  sister's  fate  with 
steadiness,  he  scarcely  wished  her  again 
o  3 


^94  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

in  life  :  for,  tied  to  a  man  of  De  Fronsac's 
imsettled  temper,  she  must  either  have 
grown  into  imhappiness  with  him,  by 
vainly  endeavouring  to  exalt  his  existence 
into  usefulness,  or  her  own  character 
must  have  sunk  to  the  same  worthless 
habits  of  self-indulgence  which  distin- 
guished his. 

Thus,  Giovanni  still  adhered  to  his 
original  conviction,  that<7//  is  for  the  best ; 
and  that  if  we  wish  to  think  so,  we  shall 
find  that  truth  made  manifest,  even  in 
this  world. 

The  subject  on  which  the  Marquis 
de  Blanchefort  wished  for  advice  was 
about  a  change  of  property  which  he 
wished  to  make,  but  would  not  do,  be- 
fore he  had  asked  the  opinion  of  Ma- 
dame de  Fronsac's  brother.  It  was 
possible  that  Madame  de  Fronsac  had 
borne  a  child  (her  pregnancy  having 
been  mentioned  in  one  of  the  Chevalier's 
letters)  :  it  was  barely  possible,  there- 
fore, that  this  child  might  not  have  been 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  '295 

the  companion  of  their  voyage,  and 
might,  at  a  future  day,  appear  to  claim 
his  estates.  The  Marquis,  therefore, 
would  not,  without  the  sanction  of  that 
child's  maternal  uncle,  stir  a  step  in  the 
business  proposed. 

Giovanni  speedily  quieted  his  respect- 
able scruples,  promising  to  take  all  re- 
sponsibility upon  himself.  After  this 
he  paid  a  visit  to  the  old  Madame  de 
Fronsac,  now  dedicated  to  heaven  in  a 
convent  of  Ursalines  ;  and,  having  thus 
completed  his  business  in  France,  he 
turned  his  face  once  more  towards  Italy. 


o  4 


(  296  ) 


CHAPTER  XV. 


A  few  days  subsequent  to  his  depart- 
ure from  Sauveterre,  having  secured 
himself  a  night's  shelter  in  an  abbey  on 
the  confines  of  the  province,  Giovanni 
rambled  out  alone,  to  enjoy  the  stillness 
and  freshness  of  evening. 

Where  increase  of  population  has 
since  converted  the  wilds  of  nature  into 
meadows  and  cornfields,  there  spread 
then,  deep  forests  and  lonely  morasses ; 
and  the  towns  which  now  glitter  on  the 
verdant  shores  of  the  Aveiron  were  then 
but  scattered  and  distant  hamlets. 

It  was  the  season  of  the  vintage  :  and 
as  Giovanni  took  his  contemplative  way, 
occasionally  through  more  frequented 
paths  than  those  of  the  tangled  woodsj 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  297 

he  met  parties  of  country  people  return- 
ing liome  to  the  neighbouring  village. 
Their  hats,  garlanded  with  vine-branches, 
and  their  baskets  teeming  with  the  grapes 
themselves,  gave  a  sort  of  Arcadian 
grace  to  their  figures. 

Giovanni  loitered  at  times  to  return 
a  courteous  answer  to  their  frank  offers 
of  fruit ;  and  to  admire  the  sparkling 
looks  and  animated  movements  of  the 
girls,  as  they  went  on,  coquetting  and 
carolling  with  their  s\yeethearts. 

The  setting-sun  played  on  many  a 
crimson  cheek,  w^hich  its  hot  ray  em- 
browTied  with  richer  beauty ;  and  many 
a  bright  dark  eye,  as  it  passed,  darted 
a  roguish  glance  at  the  handsome 
stranger. 

The  joyous  groupes,  now  advancing 
towards  him,  now  disappearing  among 
the  shaded  cross-roads,  gave  life  and  in- 
terest to  the  charms  of  inanimate  nature. 

Birds  warbling  their  hymn  of  gladness 
from  each  surrounding  copse,  (where 
o  5 


298  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

every  leaf  sparkled  with  rain-drops 
just  scattered  from  a  passing  cloud ;)  the 
delightful  smell  of  mingled  fruits  and 
blossoms  and  wild  flowers,  rising  like 
the  earth's  incense  to  her  Creator  ;  the 
sight  of  that  beauteous  earth,  and  those 
splendid  heavens,  were  to  Giovanni's 
heart  so  many  calls  to  prayer  and  praise  ; 
and  with  devotional  rapture  he  stood  in 
that  august  temple,  silently  worshipping 
the  07ie  Great  Cause. 

His  secret  transport  over,  with  feelings 
softened,  not  changed,  he  turned  from 
the  public  path,  and,  striking  down  a 
wooded  declivity,  entered  a  savage  dell 
darkened  by  old  chesnut-trees,  and  echo- 
ing to  the  rush  of  a  river. 

The  brilliancy  of  sun-set  brightening 
even  this  dismal  solitude  gave  a  charm 
to  that  deep  mass  of  umbrage  by  which 
it  was  almost  choked  up  ;  and,  illumi- 
nating the  river  for  an  instant,  as  it 
appeared  through  a  chasm  in  its  steep 
banks,  discovered  the  cause  of  that  sullen 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  299 

din,  which  sounded  in  the  ear  of  inspi- 
ration, like  the  accents  of  its  troubled 
deity. 

Giovanni  made  his  way  leisurely 
through  the  rank  bushes  to  the  margin 
of  the  water ;  and,  as  he  emerged,  came 
suddenly  upon  a  man  sitting  there  alone. 

The  man  stirred  not,  for  he  heard  not: 
his  head  was  supported  by  both  hands, 
resting  on  his  knees,  and  his  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  the  swift  tide.  Giovanni 
paused  to  observe  whether  he  was  in 
distress,  or  might  be  dangerous. 

He  saw  a  figure  scarcely  human, 
scarcely  proportioned ;  a  countenance 
livid,  yet  swollen  ;  features,  where  dis- 
ease, and  deformity,  and  weariness  of  life 
were  mixed  with  expressions  of  the  most 
affecting  and  the  most  revolting  kind. 

In  the  pale,  deep-sunken  eye  was 
thirst  of  vengeance,  hatred,  and  fierce 
impatience,  mixed  with  grief,  and  tender- 
ness, and  the  sad  consciousness  of  power- 
less will.  Now  and  then  the  poor  wretch 
o  6 


300  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

muttered  to  himself,  accompanying  his 
mutterings  by  some  violent  gesture  of 
the  hands  or  head ;  but  still  he  moved 
not  away;  and  Giovanni  fancied  that 
amidst  low  threatenings  and  curses,  he 
could  distinguish  lamentation  and  prayer. 

He  drew  near  then.  His  steps  brush- 
ing the  long  damp  grass,  made  the  man 
start.  At  sight  of  one  beside  him, 
lie  rose,  and  would  have  fled ;  but  Gio- 
vanni gently  seized  his  coarse  garment, 
and  bade  him  stay. 

**  You  touch  me! — what! — I  may  be 
touched,  then  !"  exclaimed  the  maniac, 
or  miserable,  w^ith  a  laugh  which  froze 
Giovanni's  blood,  and  made  him  loose 
his  hold. 

Thus  released,  the  man  broke  from 
him ;  and  running  fast,  but  feebly,  gained 
a  broken  ascent  at  a  short  distance  :  the 
next  moment  he  vanished,  as  it  were, 
into  the  ground. 

Giovanni  stood  to  shake  off  the  su- 
perstitious  seizure  of  an  instant ;  then, 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  301 

ashamed  of  his  folly,  hastened  after  the 
human  spectre. 

The  spot  where  it  seemed  to  vanish 
was  only  one  of  those  natural  grottoes 
which  are  often  found  in  the  sides  of 
hills,  and  are  as  often  turned  into  habita- 
tions by  shepherds  and  night- wanderers  : 
some  wild  cherry-bushes  masked,  without 
securing,  the  wade  entrance.  Stooping 
under  its  rocky  porch,  Giovanni  found 
himself  in  a  mere  mountain  hollow,  con- 
taining no  better  useful  faraiture  than 
a  bed  of  heath,  and  no  other  inhabitant 
than  the  creature  he  had  followed. 

At  the  extremity,  however,  the  chalky 
side  of  the  hollow  was  scooped  into  a 
sort  of  altar,  on  which  stood  a  wooden 
crucifix  rudely  carved :  a  circle  of  some 
prickly  briar  surmounted  it. 

This  faithful  imitation  of  the  crown 
of  thorns,  and  the  feelings  it  indicated, 
redeemed,  in  Giovanni's  estimation,  the 
gaudy  heap  of  coloured  glass  and  spars 
and  peacock  feathers  which  furnished  a 


302  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

garniture  for  this  humble  shrine :  he  saw 
in  the  latter  only  that  childish  love  of 
o-litter  which  is  common  to  all  ignorant 
persons ;  while  in  the  former  he  read  the 
sentiment  of  a  devout  spirit.  The  presence 
of  the  sacred  symbol  guaranteed  his 
personal  safety ;  and  at  the  same  time 
reminded  him  that  even  the  miserable 
object  by  his  side,  was  his  brother  in 
faith.  Silently  crossing  himself,  he  ap- 
proached the  forester. 

"  What  do  you  want  here  ?*'  asked  the 
latter,  in  a  sullen  tone,  averting  eyes 
inflamed  with  weeping. 

"  A  shelter — rest  for  a  while,  if  you 
will  give  them  me,"  returned  Giovanni, 
hoping  to  detain  the  miserable,  by  this 
demand  on  his  hospitality. 

"  Take  them,  then,"  answered  the 
man,  going  out  of  the  grotto.  He  then 
seated  himself  at  a  distance,  in  his  former 
attitude  of  stern  wretchedness. 

Giovanni  again  followed.  Without 
approaching   too   close,   and,    regarding 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  303 

him  kindly,  he  said,  "  Something  affects 
you,  my  poor  friend ;  may  a  stranger 
ofter  you  help  ?" 

The  man  neither  stirred  nor  answered. 
Giovanni  repeated  his  questions  in  a 
soothing  voice,  adding  some  expressions 
still  more  soothing.  The  solitary  then 
raised  his  head,  looked  wildly,  piteously, 
as  if  discrediting  the  sense  that  would 
have  persuaded  him  he  heard  the  voice 
of  benevolence  :  then  exclaiming,  *<  Au- 
guste  1"  burst  into  a  terrifying  passion  of 
tears, 

Giovanni  now  saw  grief  in  its  stormiest 
character ;  for  it  was  grief,  evidently 
combined  with  rage  and  impotent  desire 
of  vengeance.  The  unhappy  man  dashed 
himself  against  the  ground,  tearing  up 
the  grass  as  he  lay  there,  struggling  be- 
tween cries  and  imprecations. 

_"  Alas,  poor  fellow  1"  said  Giovanni, 
drawing  close  to  him,  as  he  saw  his  vio- 
lence exhausting  him  ;  *'  you  are,  doubt- 
less,  in  extreme  sorrow ;   and  it  seems 


304<  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

that  you  have  no  one  to  comfort  you : 
where  is  your  home  ? — let  me  lead  you 
to  it/' 

**  That  is  my  home,"  replied  the  soli- 
tary, pointing  to  the  mountain-hollow. 

"  And  what  are  you,  then  ?" 

"  A  Cahet."  The  man  pronounced 
that  ignominious  name  with  a  mixture 
of  shame  and  defiance. 

Giovanni  was  far  beyond  the  character 
of  the  times  he  lived  in ;  and  he  shrunk 
not  from  a  term  which  stigmatised  the 
unhappy  wretch  before  him  as  one  of  an 
accursed  and  avoided  race. 

"  What,  then  ?"  he  said  ;  "  you  are  a 
man — all  men  are  brethren :  you  seem 
a  Christian — Christians  are  more  than 
brethren.  Come,  then ;  tell  me  your 
distresses  freely,  and  let  me  see  if  I  can 
relieve  you."' 

O  spark  of  the  Divine  essence,  soul 
of  man  !  prime  source  of  grace  and 
beauty !  how  didst  thou  triumph  at  this 
moment   over    all   that    disease    has   of 

13 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  305 

squalid,  and  deformity,  of  revolting!  Tiie 
Cahet's  livid  and  gloomy  face  shone  with 
light ;  tears  (no  longer  withering  tears) 
poured  in  abundance  down  his  cheeks : 
he  ran,  he  sprang,  he  cast  himself  at  the 
feet  of  Giovanni ;  he  seized  his  garments, 
rather  devouring  than  kissing  them,  as 
he  cried  in  broken  accents,  >**  O,  do  I 
indeed  hear  words  of  kindness  again  !" 

Giovanni  raised  him ;  and,  regarding 
him  with  an  expression  of  the  most  bene- 
volent pity,  he  said,  **  Let  us  re-enter 
your  cave.  No  one  will  disturb  us  there 
— and  you  shall  tell  me  what  I  can  do 
to  help  you.*' 

"  No  one  can  help  me  now !  — Auguste 
is  dead!*'  exclaimed  the  Cahet,  and  fresh 
tears  rained  from  his  hollow  eyes. 

**  Then  you  shall  talk  to  me  of  this 
Auguste,"  replied  Giovanni,  gently 
urging  him  forward  ;  if  you  have  no  one 
else  to  lament  him  with,  I  will  grieve 
with  you.'* 

Again    the  Cahet    grasped    the  hem 


to6  THE  KNiGPit  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

of  Giovanni's  cloak,  and  glued  liis  lips 
to  it. 

They  entered  the  mountain-hollow  to- 
gether. When  they  had  severally  seated 
themselves,  Giovanni  considered  the  poor 
object  before  him  with  greater  attention 
and  with  the  liveliest  interest. 

In  him  he  saw,  for  the  first  time,  one 
of  that  mysterious  race  whom  some  un^ 
known  calamity  has  scattered  throughout 
France,  and  degraded  from  their  rank 
and  rights  of  men :  a  race  which  were 
numerous  in  the  first  and  middle  ages, 
but  of  which  only  a  miserable  remnant 
now  remains  to  perpetuate  the  injustice 
of  former  centuries. 

This  proscribed  race,  known  under 
various  opprobrious  titles  in  different 
provinces,  have  been  alternatively  sup- 
posed the  descendants  of  the  conquered 
Alans,  of  the  Saracens,  of  the  Visigoths  : 
nay,  some  writers  have  tried  to  find  the 
origin  of  their  disgrace  in  hereditary 
leprosy. 


tHE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  307 

In  that  chaos  of  nations  and  events 
which  renders  the  history  of  the  tirst  ages 
but  a  wilderness  of  imaginations,  nothing 
satisfactory  can  be  discovered  respecting 
their  origin.  We  see  only  the  frightful 
facts  of  their  being  sold  and  transferred 
as  slaves  with  the  land  on  which  they 
dwelt ;  of  intermixture  with  them  being 
considered  an  act  of  iniquity  ;  of  their 
banishment  from  the  rites  of  sepulture 
and  sacrament ;  of  their  being  allowed 
only  the  exercise  of  those  employments 
which  would  keep  them  aloof  from  towns, 
and  other  society  than  their  own* 

Marked  with  disease,  (perhaps  the  con- 
sequence of  scanty  food,  hopeless  toil, 
and  continued  intermixture  with  their 
own  cast,)  this  unhappy  race  form,  even 
now,  as  distinct  a  people,  but,  thank 
God,  a  far  less  numerous  people,  than  the 
gipseys. 

But  bound  to  the  soil  on  which  they 
are  born  ;  not  free,  like  them,  to  rove  at 
will ;    they  are   doomed  to  endure  the 


808  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

same  injuries  from  the  same  oppressors, 
in  age  as  in  youth  ;  and  thus  they  ac- 
quire habits  of  unresisting  endurance. 

Objects  of  horror  and  aversion  to  every 
other  class  of  men,  even  two  centuries 
back,  they  could  not  question  the  justice 
of  their  fate  ;  because  they  were  then 
as  ignorant  of  its  cause  in  remote  anti- 
quity, as  they  were  who  oppressed  them  : 
still  they  felt  its  weiglit,  groaned,  and 
submitted. 

Giovanni  had  often  pondered  over  the 
possible  source  of  this  furious  antipathy, 
which  still  remained  in  all  its  strength, 
when  every  trace  of  what  might  explain 
(for  nothing  could  justify  it),  was  swept 
from  record  and  tradition.  Rejecting 
every  other  opinion,  he  believed,  with 
some  acute  writers,  that  in  the  heresy  of 
the  Arian  Visigoths  lay  the  solution  of 
the  difficulty.  Once  tainted  with  that 
abhorred  schism,  the  whole  race  would 
be  pronounced  excommunicate,  and  shun- 
ned accordingly. 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  309 

This  h^^othesis  certainly  wanted  com- 
pleteness ;  as  it  did  not  account  for  the 
gradual  change  which  must  afterwards 
have  taken  place  in  their  creed ;  the  Ca- 
hets  professing  pure  Catholicism  :  —  and 
how  was  that  change  to  have  been  ef- 
fected, seeing  they  were  denied  not  only 
intermixture  by  marriage  with  more  or- 
thodox Christians,  but  refused  admittance 
into  their  society  ? 

Giovanni,  however,  passed  lightly  over 
the  objection ;  willing  to  gild  a  wretched 
and  despised  race,  with  the  long-set  glo- 
ries of  the  warlike  Goths. 

He  now  contemplated,  as  he  thought, 
one  of  their  descendants  in  the  person 
of  a  timid  slave  ;  and,  marvelling  at  those 
great  reverses  of  fortune,  which  distin- 
guish nations  as  much  as  individuals,  he 
drew  from  his  pallid  companion  the  little 
history  of  his  life. 

It  was  a  life  of  uniform  dreariness  ; 
with  much  in  it  to  corrode  the  sufferer's 
heart,  but  little  to  mark  a  narrative. 


810  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

Hodolphe  was  the  last  individual  of 
the  only  Cahet  family  which  had  for  many 
years  remained  on  the  estate  of  D*Ar- 
mond  ;  he  had  lived,  therefore,  in  pecu- 
liar and  joyless  solitude  from  childhood 
to  manhood.  Dwelling  alone,  shunned 
by  every  other  human  being,  he  followed 
his  monotonous  task  of  wood-cutting 
during  the  summer ;  and  in  winter  shut 
himself  up  from  the  wolves  and  the  snows 
in  a  mountain-hovel. 

On  Saints-days  he  stole  into  some 
neighbouring  church  at  a  side-entrance 
set  apart  for  his  unhappy  cast ;  and  there, 
Avhile  he  listened  to  the  awful  service, 
feared  to  join  his  prayer  or  his  praise, 
with  any  of  the  crowd  that  shuddered 
if  his  garments  did  but  touch  them  in 
passing. 

He  now  described  his  return  from  those 
pious  exercises  with  a  pathetic  force 
which  pierced  Giovanni's  heart.  The 
mysterious  horror  with  which  he  con- 
sidered himself;  the  trembling  awe  with 
15 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  311 

which  he  regarded  all  that  multitude  of 
persons  so  different  from  him  in  appear- 
ance and  in  destiny ;  and  that  continued 
sensation  of  misery,  which  he  painted  as 
having  supplied  in  him  the  place  of 
thought;  —  all  these  were  so  many  af- 
fecting proofs,  how  easy  it  is  to  crush 
the  human  spirit  under  a  load  of  injustice 
and  superstition. 

Education  had  not  taught  Rodolphe 
to  reflect ;  nature,  however,  made  him 
feel.  —  He  questioned  not  the  justice  of 
whatever  laws  condemned  him,  in  com- 
mon with  other  Cahets,  to  ignominy  and 
wretchedness  ;  but  submitting  to  his  fate, 
as  to  necessity,  he  never  kifew  complaint, 
till  he  had  enjoyed  and  lost  comfort.. 

An  accidental  circumstance  had  first 
caused  a  glimmering  light  to  shine  on  his 
mental  gloom. 

While  cutting  wood  in  the  dell  one 
autumnal  day,  a  boy  six  years  old,  who 
had  strayed  from  his  foster-mother's  cot- 
tage, came  to  play  there.     Pleased  v/ith 


3l!2  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

the  child's  beauty  and  gaiety,  the  poor 
Cahet  suspended  his  labour  to  watch  him 
sporting  among  the  rushes.  While  clam- 
bering after  a  butterfly,  the  boy  fell  into 
the  river  that  ran  below  —  Rodolphe 
jumped  in  after  him,  seized,  and  saved 
him. 

Having  borne  him  in  his  arms  to  the 
hamlet  from  which  he  had  strayed, 
though  Auguste's  nurse  received  him  as 
if  from  the  hands  of  a  demon;  Rodolphe 
afterwards  haunted  the  spot  every  morn- 
ing and  evening,  till  he  saw  the  little 
prattler  again.  Gratitude  on  the  one 
side,  and  on  the  other  the  love  of  that  we 
have  served,  were  too  powerful  for  re- 
straint :  Rodolphe  could  imitate  every 
bird  in  the  forest ;  and  he  gathered  ber- 
ries and  blossoms,  and  laid  them  where 
Auguste  found  them.  Thus  administering 
to  the  gentle  child's  pleasures,  his  image 
could  not  be  coupled  in  his  mind  with 
ideas  of  dread  and  disgust. 

When,  at  last,  the  furious  prejudices 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  313 

of  the  villagers  drove  Rodolphe  from 
their  door,  Auguste  learned  to  steal  away 
alone  to  the  wood-cutter's  cave ;  and 
then  his  pretty  arts  beguiled  the  mo- 
ments, and  "  made  a  sun-shine  in  that 
shady  place.*' 

This  intercourse  continued  without  in- 
termission  for  two  years,  during  which 
time,  the  child  became  the  man's  in- 
structor ;  and  having  taught  him  to  feel, 
he  soon  taught  him  to  think.  Rodolphe 
well  remembered  the  change  that  was 
wrought  in  him. 

"  Before  I  knew  Auguste,'^  he  said, 
**  I  used  to  sit  here  alone,  day  after  day  — 
dark  winter-days,  long  winter-nights  — 
doing  nothing  but  feeding  my  fire  w^ith 
fallen  wood.  Once  I  used  to  think 
about  my  family  that  were  dead  —  but 
that  was  just  after  they  died :  years 
passed,  and  1  forgot  to  think  ;  and  then 
I  used  to  feel  as  if  I  lived  in  my  grave. 
Something  thick,  and  dark,  and  heavy, 
was  always  before  my  eyes  —  or  in  my 

VOL.  I.  p 


3l4f  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

breast — or  here  in  my  head — I  don't  know 
where  it  was — ^what  it  was — for  I  thought 
of  no  one  that  had  ever  lived ;  nor  of  any 
thing  that  had  ever  been.  —  O,  those 
were  horrid  days  !'* 

.The  pallid  face  of  the  Cahet  took  a 
more  deadly  hue  as  he  spoke.  After  a 
suffocating  pause  he  resumed :  — 

**  Auguste  changed  all  that.  From 
the  moment  I  had  him  first  in  my  arms, 
I  felt  that  every  thing  was  altered  :  for 
even  then,  he  put  his  soft,  red  cheek 
against  mine  j  —  he  breathed  gently  on 
my  lips,  because  they  were  livid  blue,  and 
he  thought  I  must  be  cold  —  and  he  pro- 
mised to  love  me  dearly  all  his  life  —  he 
did  not  know  I  was  a  Cahet !  Ah  well ! 
he  knew  it  afterwards  ;  but  he  loved  me 
still  y  and  no  one  could  keep  him  from 
me.  He  would  come  to  me  in  the 
wood,  and  sing  me  pretty  songs,  and 
tell  me  pretty  tales,  and  stick  flowers  in 
my  hair,  and  stroke  my  rough  hands  with 
his  delicate  ones.  O  Auguste  !  Auguste  1 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  315 

never  wilt  thou  nestle  in  my  breast 
again !  —  never  shall  I  feel  thy  sweet 
breathing  more !  never !  never  !'* 

The  Cahet  now  sobbed  aloud ;  and  his- 
voice,  quite  subdued  by  grief,  was  no 
longer  audible. 

"  You  lament  a  child  thus  ?"  repeated 
Giovanni,  his  own  eyes  dim  with  oppres- 
sive sympathy.  The  Cahet  bowed  his 
head  in  expressive  silence,  at  length  re- 
suming, he  said,  — 

*'  Auguste  was  a  little  child,  when  first 
we  met ;  but  he  grew  so  tall,  and  so  sen- 
sible, in  two  years  !  He  could  read,  and 
make  letters  upon  vellum,  like  a  book ; 
and  he  taught  me  to  read ;  he  used  to  steal 
his  books  out,  and  help  me  to  read  them  : 
80  after  that,  I  never  felt  dark  and  heavy  in 
this  cave  ;  for  I  could  sit  by  my  fire,  and 
repeat  them  word  for  word  ;  and  think 
over  all  my  pretty  Auguste  had  said  or 
done.  —  O  how  I  was  happy !  and  he 
taught  me  that  word — I  had  never  heard 
it,  till  he  said  it  to  me." 
p  2 


316  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

"  Nor  ever  felt  it !"  said  Giovanni,  in- 
wardly sighing  at  the  thought. 

"  But  a  Cahet  is  not  born  to  be  happy," 
resumed  Rodolphe  :  "  Auguste  fell  sick, 
and  I  did  not  know  it.  I  watched  for 
him  in  the  woods,  by  the  river,  in  all  the 
pathways  ;  I  ventured  to  go  near  his 
nurse's  house  ;  still  I  saw  him  not.  At 
last  she  told  me  that  he  was  taken  home 
to  his  father's  in  the  town,  and  that  he 
was  dying.  Did  I  not  run  there  ?  Did 
I  not  beg  them,  on  my  knees,  to  let  me  see 
him  only  once  again  ?  If  they  would  have 
told  him — if  they  would  have  brought 
me  but  a  message  from  him!  At  last 
they  told  me  he  was  dead ;  they  drove 
me  away  with  stones  and  frightful  words ; 
they  cursed  me  for  loving  Auguste  ;  they 
said  his  death  was  a  judgment,  because 
he  had  loved  me  ;  they  told  me  his  inno- 
cent soul  would  suffer  for  my  sake,  and 
they  mocked  my  agony." 

A  ghastly  smile  gleamed  over  the  fea^ 
tures  of  the  Cahet,  and  his  lips  moved 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  317 

wildly  for  a  while,  though  not  articu- 
lately. At  length  he  smote  his  breast, 
and  with  a  thrilling  cry  exclaimed, 

"O!  if  this  arm  had  power! — if  I 
might  ease  the  dreadful  pain  that's  gnaw- 
ing here!  The  pangs  of  thirst,  of  hunger, 
of  dreary  loneliness,  are  not  half  so 
strong.     Might  I  be  revenged!'* 

Rodolphe  trembled  with  the  hideous 
passions  that  now  engrossed  him  :  rage 
and  hatred  glared  in  his  fixed  eye;  he 
shook  his  clenched  hand,  as  if  threaten- 
ing some  unseen  object,  while  a  horrid 
groan  convulsed  his  bosom. 

At  first  Giovanni  soothed  him;  then 
proceeded  to  explain  the  sinfulness  of 
revenge,  and  the  loveliness  of  returning 
evil  with  good. 

He  reminded  Rodolphe  that  those 
persons  who  were  most  cruel  to  him,  were 
related  to  the  object  he  loved  so  dearly, 
therefore  should  be  considered  sacred  on 
that  account ;  that  perhaps  their  injuri- 
ous treatment  was  rather  the  effect  of  a 
p  3 


SI 8  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

grief  more  ungovernable  than  his  own, 
and  that  aggravated  by  superstition,  than 
the  result  of  deliberate  cruelty. 

He  then  urged  him  to  reflect  that,  ac- 
cording to  the  religion  they  both  pro- 
fessed, he  would  more  surely  and  worthily 
manifest  his  fondness  for  Auguste,  by 
joining  in  the  customary  prayers  for  his 
soul,  than  by  committing  acts  of  vio- 
lence upon  his  kindred. 

As  he  enforced  this,  Giovanni  laid 
aside  his  hat  and  cloak,  inviting  Ro- 
dolphe  to  assist  him  in  repeating  the  of- 
fices for  the  dead. 

Kneeling  down  before  the  cross  on  the 
rude  and  almost  grotesque  altar,  he  re- 
cited  in  a  solemn  voice,  the  service  to 
which  he  invited  the  Cahet.  The  un- 
fortunate then  sunk  in  silence  beside 
him  :  by  degrees  his  countenance  lost 
its  wildness,  his  movements  their  convul- 
sive quickness,  and  his  fast-streaming 
tears  announced  the  melting  of  his  heart. 

Never   did   Giovanni   pray  more  fer- 


mi:  KNPGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  SlQ 

vently.  In  the  august  chapel  of  the 
Knights  of  St.  John,  surrounded  by  a 
multitude  of  kindred  spirits,  and  by  all 
the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  cere- 
monial worship,  he  had  fek  his  soul 
transported  with  holy  rapture  :  in  the 
church  of  the  Annonciata,  during  the 
masses  that  were  said  over  his  father's 
body,  he  had  felt  that  soul  awe-struck, 
and  anxious  and  earnest  in  its  ad- 
dresses to  the  Judge  of  men  and  an- 
gels ;  but  never  had  he  felt  in  such  im- 
mediate communion  with  his  Creator  as 
now,  when  lifting  up  his  heart  and  voice 
to  him,  in  a  lonely  desert,  by  the  side  of 
a  forlorn  and  sorrowful  slave. 

Their  devotions  ended,  Giovanni  and 
Rodolphe  arose :  the  latter  was  still 
bathed  in  tears,  increasing  tears;  but 
they  distilled  in  kindly  showers,  as  if  they 
relieved  his  heart  of  all  that  weighed 
upon  its  better  purposes. 

Frequently  he  caught  Giovanni's  hand, 
kissed  it,  and  held  it  against  his  heaving 
p  4 


3^0  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

side ;  while  Giovanni,  with  the  gracious 
look  of  a  heavenly  messenger,  continued 
to  fortify  him  in  patient  submission,  and 
to  describe  that  ineffable  bliss  which  must 
be  the  portion  of  a  soul  .unspotted  by 
the  world. 

His  arguments  had  less  effect  than  his 
description  of  Auguste's  beatitude :  so 
little  power  has  reason  over  sensibility, 
strongly  roused  ;  and  so  necessary  is  it 
to  combat  one  passion  by  another. 

In  conformity  with  the  precepts  of 
their  religion,  Giovanni  taught  him,  that 
there  yet  remained  a  means  by  which  he 
could  testify  his  love  to  the  innocent 
child,  now  no  more ;  and  in  teaching 
hiiii  this,  he  opened  to  him  a  source  of 
enjoyment,  and  he  animated  him  into 
action. 

Even  that  innocent  soul  would  not,  he 
said,  be  deemed  free  from  the  imputed 
guilt  of  our  first  father ;  and  for  it, 
therefore,  the  mass  might  be  performed. 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  321 

and  the  secret  prayer  offered,  ^vith  blessed 
effect. 

Thus  soothed,  thus  led  to  stem  his 
own  faulty  impulses,  for  the  sake  of  the 
soul  he  lamented,  Rodolphe,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  made  an  effort  which  had 
self-control  for  its  object.  Oh,  sorrow, 
what  a  teacher  art  thou  ! 

Giovanni  marked,  and  commended  his 
struggles  ;  and,  promising  to  see  him  ere 
he  departed  the  next  day,  bade  him  a 
kindly  farewell. 

As  he  slowly  took  his  way  homewards 
to  the  convent  where  he  was  to  sleep, 
the  past  scene  engrossed  all  his  faculties  ; 
nothing  outward,  indeed,  pressed  upon 
his  attention:  for,  as  if  respecting  his  me- 
ditations, nature  had  veiled  herself  in  a 
mist ;  and,  as  he  passed  along,  the  mea- 
dows and  valleys,  covered  with  its  white 
billows,  presented  no  object  to  call  forth 
admiration. 

Giovanni  recollected  the  gay  groups 
he  had  met  in  those  paths,  not  three 
p  5 


32^  TH]E  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

hours  before  ;  and,  contrasting  them  with 
the  wretched  wood-cutter,  he  sighed  over 
their  disproportionate  destinies. 

Connected  with  that  poor  wretch's 
image,  the  happiness  of  these  people  ap- 
peared monstrous  ;  it  seemed  the  hilarity 
of  heartless  selfishness :  for  were  not  these 
the  villagers  who  drove  the  Cahet  from 
their  doors,  and  would  have  excluded 
him,  if  possible,  from  their  churches  ? 

"  But  why  do  I  condemn  them  ?'*  he 
asked ;  **  the  blame  falls  on  their  in- 
structors :"  and  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  that 
quarter  where  the  towers  of  the  abbey 
rose,  like  an  aerial  edifice,  above  the  float- 
ing mists. 

Giovanni  felt  the  religious  enthusiasm 
of  his  times  without  their  prejudices, 
and  his  heart  ached  while  remembering 
all  that  he  had  heard  and  read  of  priestly 
anathema  against  this  unfortunate  race. 

Who  in  this  province  but  himself,  would 
have  entered  a  Cahet's  hut,  pressed  his 

14 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  SS8 

hand,  dried  his  tears,  comforted,  prayed 
with  him  ? 

As  he  asked  himself  this  question,  he 
thanked  Heaven  that  he  had  been  born 
in  a  country  where  none  of  these  wretched 
beings  existed,  and  where  the  blind  habit 
of  hatred  to  them,  had  not  deafened  even 
superior  minds  to  the  pleadings  of  hu- 
manity and  reason ! 

He  saw  in  a  Cahet,  one  of  the  same 
species  with  himself;  one  whom  he  was 
led  by  natural  instinct  to  pity ;  and 
whom  he  was  bound  to  succour  by  the 
vows  he  had  taken  when  dedicating  him- 
self to  the  service  of  Heaven  and  of 
mankind. 

Obliged  by  the  rules  of  his  Order  to 
attend  the  sick,  and  wash  the  feet  of 
the  poor,  Giovanni  felt  no  degradation, 
when  he  knelt  with  the  half-savage  wood- 
cutter before  his  rude  altar ;  and,  habi- 
tuated to  consider  himself  still  bound  to 
assist  all  his  distressed  fellow-creatures, 
he  was  not  sensible  to  any  self-applause, 
p  6 


324  l^HE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

when  resolving  not  to  quit  Guienne  till 
he  should  ameliorate  or  wholly  change 
this  forlorn  one's  lot. 

In  this  frame  of  mind,  he  reached  the 
abbey ;  sought  and  obtained  information 
of  the  Count  d' Armand,  on  whose  estate 
Rodolphe  was  born. 

The  next  day,  Giovanni  went  to  wait 
on  him. 

Whether  his  arguments,  his  persua- 
sions, his  gold,  or  his  winning  manner, 
had  most  weight  with  a  spendthrift  cour- 
tier, I  leave  courtiers  to  determine  ;  suf- 
fice it,  that  when  he  took  the  river-path, 
he  carried  with  him  the  exulting  power 
of  bestowing  freedom. 

The  day  was  advanced,  and  the  poor 
Cahet  was  gone  to  his  allotted  task  in 
the  forest.  Giovanni  found  him  there, 
repeating  the  ineffectual  blows  of  his 
hatchet  at  long  intervals,  with  an  arm 
nearly  enfeebled. 

He  had  been  wandering,  at  day-break, 
round  the  house  that  contained  the 
15 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  325 

corpse  of  Auguste ;  and  had  collected 
there  some  withered  flowers  as  they 
were  thrown  from  the  windows  of  the 
mournful  chamber.  He  did  not  err 
when  he  fondly  fancied  they  had  strewn 
the  body  of  his  youthful  friend. 

During  the  progress  of  his  labour, 
these  dismal  flowers  were  only  taken 
from  his  breast,  to  press  with  his  lips, 
and  water  with  tears.  He  displayed 
them  to  Giovanni,  telling  him  their  his- 
tory. 

Giovanni  took  them  in  his  hand,  con- 
sidered them  with  respect  and  tender- 
ness, said  some  soothing  words ;  and 
thus  lightened  the  grief  of  Rodolphe  by 
appearing  to  share  it. 

In  the  desolation  of  Chis  poor  outcast, 
and  in  the  stormy  excess  of  his  sorrow, 
there  seemed  a  resemblance  with  the 
situation  and  feelings  of  Cesario  Adimari; 
such,  at  least,  as  they  were,  when  Gio- 
vanni first  saw  him  in  the  Palazzo  Pub- 
lico. 


3^6         THE    KNIGHT    OF    ST.  JOHN. 

The  comparison  did  but  strengthen  his 
interest  in  the  person  before  him.  And 
believing  he  saw  in  his  violence  of  feel- 
ing, one  of  those  strong  characters,  on 
whom  nature  bestows  an  extraordinary 
capacity  for  happiness  and  virtue,  he 
flattered  himself  with  the  hope  of  here- 
after building  him  up  in  both,  by  judi- 
cious instruction. 

His  mild  sympathy  had  already  sooth- 
ed his  companion  into  details  of  his  little 
favourite's  sportiveness  and  affection  ; 
when  the  deep  toll  of  a  bell  was  heard 
over  the  wood-tops :  at  that  sound,  the 
Cahet  started  up,  uttered  a  piercing  cry, 
and  fell  upon  the  ground,  like  one  de- 
prived of  sense. 

Giovanni  divined  the  cause  of  this 
new  agony.  Doubtless,  that  bell  an- 
nounced the  interment  of  Auguste. 
Some  pitying  drops  fell  from  his  cheek 
upon  the  livid  face  of  Rodolphe,  as  he 
raised  him  from  the  ground.  The  un- 
happy man  opened  his  eyes,  (for  anguish 


THE   KNIGHT    OF  ST.  JOHN.  3^7 

alone  had  closed  them,)  and  fixed  them 
with  an  expression  of  gratitude  upon  the 
gracious  countenance  of  Giovanni ;  then 
he  groaned,  and,  closing  them  again, 
threw  himself  back  on  the  earth. 

Giovanni  would  not  urge  the  exhaust- 
ed spirit  beyond  its  strength  :  he  suffered 
Rodolphe  to  remain  stretched  in  dumb 
despair,  while  the  bell  continued  to  toll ; 
and  the  funeral  procession,  (seen  only 
in  their  mind's  eye,)  was  proceeding 
from  the  town  to  the  church  of  the 
Benedictines. 

As  he  contemplated  the  convulsed 
figure  of  the  Cahet,  and  listened  to  his 
half-breathed  groans,  he  marvelled  at 
the  mysterious  power  which  enables  man 
to  enslave,  not  merely  the  body,  but  the 
mind  of  his  fellow-men. 

What  had  been  this  poor  Cahet's 
strongest  desire  ?  To  follow  those  pre- 
cious remains  to  their  last  rest ;  to  hear 
the  solemn  rites  performed  for  that 
almost  sinless  soul  j  to  watch,  and  weep. 


328  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

by  that  newly-tenanted  grave.  Yet  here 
he  lay  groaning  at  a  distance  ;  withheld 
from  joining  the  sad  procession, — and  by 
what  withheld?  Life  was  a  blank  to 
him ;  death,  the  gate  of  Heaven :  he 
was  a  slave.  Human  malice  could  not 
sink  him  lower,  nor  afflict  him  more.  — 
What  then  restrained  him  ? 

Even  that  inexplicable  somethings  to 
which  we  give  the  name  of  a  broken 
spirit ;  but  for  which  no  name  is  ade- 
quate ;  no  name  is  sufficiently  expressive 
of  the  shapeless  horrors,  the  w^ild  exag- 
geration of  the  oppressor's  power  and 
the  sufferer's  weakness,  which  constitute 
its  very  essence. 

Giovanni  thought  he  had  never,  till 
now,  fathomed  the  utmost  depths  of 
human  misery  and  human  degradation ; 
and,  yearning  to  restore  this  unoffending 
creature  to  man's  birthright  of  freedom, 
comfort,  and  knowledge,  he  waited 
anxiously  for  the  moment,  in  which  he 
could  make  him  sensible,  that  the  paths 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  3^9 

to  these,  were  all  open  to  him.  *'  I  will 
die !"  were  the  first  articulate  sounds 
the  Cahet  uttered,  as  he  suddenly  start- 
ed from  the  ground,  rolling  round  his 
blood-shot  eyes  with  a  look  of  phrenzy 
—  *'  They  have  buried  him  now. —  and 
what  should  I  live  for  ?'* 

**  Live  for  the  stranger  that  has  sor-* 
rowed  with  you !"  said  Giovanni,  in  a 
tone  of  gentle  reproach,  laying  his  hand 
upon  Rodolphe's  arm. 

**  For  you  ?  1  would  die  for  you  V* 
exclaimed  the  poor  forester,  falling  at 
his  feet  with  a  softened  countenance, 
"but  you  are  going  far  away ;  and  I  — 
am,  like  these  trees,  —  fixed  —  fixed  — 
fixed." 

"  You  may  go  whither  you  will/' 
replied  Giovanni :  **  you  are  no  longer 
a  slave.'' 

It  was  long  ere  he  could  make  Ro- 
dolphe  comprehend  the  change  that  had 
taken  place  in  his  fate  :  the  magnitude 
of  it  stupefied  him. 


330  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JO^^T. 

But  when  his  labouring  naind  at  length 
took  in,  not  the  full  extent  of- the  bless- 
ing gained  for  him,  but  only  the  extent 
oi'  his  personal  freedom,  his  gratitude 
and  joy  amounted  to  delirium.  He 
passed,  in  a  moment,  from  a  paroxysm  of 
despair  to  one  of  rapture :  even  the  re- 
collection of  Auguste  was  suspended  in 
his  mind. 

To  live  and  die  near  his  benefactor, 
near  the  only  one  of  his  species,  save  a 
little  child,  that  had  ever  cast  on  him  a 
look  of  kindness;  the  ideal  happiness 
was  almost  beyond  his  power  to  bear: 
and,  sobbing  like  an  infant,  he  would 
have  worshipped  him  who  blessed  him 
thus,  had  not  Giovanni's  gentle  rebuke 
taught  him  where  to  direct  his  thanks- 
givings. 

When  the  replies  to  his  wandering 
questions  informed  Rodolphe  that  he 
would  accompany  his  benefactor  into 
other  countries,  amongst  mixed  multi- 
tudes, his  joy  faded  :   he  cast  his  eyes 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN.  331 

upon  the  clear  mirror  of  the  river,  and, 
shuddering  at  "  the  imperfect  fashion  of 
man"  there  reflected,  compared  it,  by  a 
speaking  glance,  with  the  rare  perfection 
of  Giovanni's  proportions. 

He  did  not  speak,  but  that  piteous 
look  needed  no  interpreter. 

Giovanni  understood  it :  he  hastened 
to  say,  that  in  the  country  where  he 
wished  to  remove  him,  the  very  name  of 
his  proscribed  race  was  known  only  to 
the  learned  or  the  traveller ;  that,  con- 
sequently, he  would  mix  on  equal  terms 
with  persons  of  his  own  condition :  that 
his  livid  complexion  and  feeble  limbs 
would  change  into  health  and  vigour  by 
wholesome  food  and  considerate  care, 
and  that  he  would  have,  besides,  in  Gio- 
vanni, a  friend  able  and  willing  to  protect 
him  against  insult. 

The  simple  Cahet  listened  as  to  an 
oracle,  his  wishes  giving  force  to  each 
benevolent  argument. 

Ere   Giovanni   quitted   him,    he   had 


S3Q  THE  KNIGHT  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

promised  to  be  in  waiting  on  the  by-road 
to  Italy,  by  day-break  the  next  morning. 
Giovanni  concluded  that  he  would 
visit  the  grave  of  Auguste  during  the 
night,  and  he  wished  not  to  impose  any 
restraint  on  a  sorrow  so  legitimate. 

Yet  he  could  have  gone  and  wept  with 
him  ;  so  truly  did  he  lament  the  early 
death  of  a  child,  whose  uncommon 
energy  and  sensibility  augured  such  a 
noble  maturity. 

Even  in  that  event,  however,  he  saw 
the  gracious  hand  of  Providence  ;  which, 
depriving  Rodolphe  of  so  feeble  an  as- 
sistance, had  caused  him  to  excite  the 
compassion  of  one  competent  to  change 
his  wretchedness  to  comfort. 

Rodolphe  passed  that  night  in  the 
church-yard  of  the  Benedictines.  His 
lamentations  no  mortal  ear  heard  ;  his 
agony,  no  mortal  eye  witnessed  :  ibr  who 
had  loved  the  beauteous  clay  that  rested 
there,    like    the     unhappy    Cahet?  —  to 


THE  KNIGHT  Of  ST.  JOHS.  333 

whom  was  Auguste  any  thing,  save  to 
him? 

He  returned  no  more  to  his  cave.  — 
An  osier-basket  held  all  his  property:  this 
consisted  of  a  few  miserable  garments ; 
the  spars  which  had  decorated  his  shrine  j 
a  rosary ;  and  a  mutilated  missal ;  all  the 
gifts  of  Auguste.  In  his  breast,  he 
hoarded  the  flowers  he  had  found  under 
the  window  of  that  dear  child,  and  the 
sod  he  had  taken  from  his  grave. 

With  these  treasures  —  for  they  were 
such  to  him  —  he  met  Giovanni  in  a  by- 
path beyond  the  town  ;  and,  joining  his 
small  suite,  quitted  France,  with  him,  for 
ever. 


END  OF  THE  FIRST  VOLUME. 


Printed  cy  A.S:rahan, 
Printers-Sireet,  London.